Love: Lost and Found
by wildnfree21
Summary: LAST CHAPTER UP!!!!!! Please R/R.
1. Prologue

"Claire! Honey! WHERE THE HELL IS MY WORK SHIRT!?!" Steve Burnside bellowed atrociously as he pillaged through their room in the tiny apartment. "CLAIRE! WHERE'S MY-"  
  
"It's right here, Steve." Claire Redfield sighed as she held out his dark blue shirt, which he promptly snatched from her grasp.  
  
"It's about time." Steve mumbled without much gratitude as he hurried to put it on. "Dammit woman, I'm late for work. Didn't you iron this last night?" he asked, as he grabbed his hat.  
  
"I tried, but I fell asleep." Claire said, rubbing her eyes.  
  
Steve scoffed under his breath and gave her a hard kiss on the cheek. "Have dinner ready before I get home."  
  
"Yes, dear." Claire said, forcing a smile.  
  
She watched as Steve hastily sped towards the door. Claire suddenly realized she had forgotten something.  
  
"Steve! Honey!" she followed after him just as he was halfway out.  
  
"What?" he asked, slightly annoyed.  
  
"I almost forgot... I love you." she said smiling decorously.  
  
"Yeah... right back at you." Steve replied, throwing a hasty half smile as he shut the door behind him.  
  
Claire stood for a few moments, rooted in place, before deflating like a balloon onto the couches back. She wasn't surprised at Steve's distance that morning. It had been like that the past few years. She and Steve had been together for eight years. She was twenty-nine, soon to be thirty, and found it almost unbearable that he could think she was losing her sex appeal.  
  
Claire waited in the silence trying to collect herself before she started to clean. In the beginning, when Steve was first pursuing her, he was so sweet it was unbelievable. He wrote her poems, bought her gifts and showered her with compliments left and right. Finally she gave in to his courtship rituals and they became an item. Now, Steve was a walking contradition. He wanted her to keep svelte, yet he didn't want her working out at a gym or running around the block or swimming at the pool. Anything that would put her in the prescense of lonely, elligible men. He loved her, yet he could still found something to complain about incessantly. It was so puzzling how a man could change so fast. How could he be so nice in the beginning, and so possessive later?  
  
They barely went anywhere and talked about anything anymore. He never did anything romantic excepto ask her which movie she wanted to rent at Blockbuster. Sometimes he would just go ahead and buy one, only it would be something like 'Party Girl IV'... maybe 'Taboo III'... That was the basically the only thing that got Steve's attention  
  
when he got home. The only time he ever gave her any affection was when they were making love. Although Claire could scarcely call last night making love. Steve was so rough with her. His hands moving callously over her soft skin. His teeth cutting into her flesh hard enough to draw blood. And he took her so cruelly that she thought she would never walk again. She wanted so badly to cry.  
  
Shaking her head, she let a few tear drops fall. What had happened to her? She used to be so tough. So strong. Now it was as if she needed Steve for everything she did.  
  
She didn't or couldn't have an opinion on anything. It was always Steve's way or no way at all. Truth be told, it was getting tiring. But she just couldn't find it in her heart to leave him. She loved him too much to do that... didn't she? 


	2. Ironic

Chapter One:  
IRONIC  
  
  
  
  
Claire hummed along to her Alanis Morrisette CD as she swept her broom across the tiled kitchen floor. She'd been cleaning  
for a couple of years and the apartment now looked livable. Steve's beer bottles and pork rinds had been cleared from the TV  
area and she'd aired out the entire apartment so that the smell of alcohol was gone from the couches and furniture (that alone had  
taken one whole bottle of Febreeze).   
Grabbing the dustpan, she whirled around and started singing along to 'Ironic' and swept  
up all the dust before dumping in into the waste basket. Noticing that the basket was full, she tied it up, slung it over her shoulder  
and headed for the garbage container outside.   
Just as her hand reached for the doorknob, the doorbell rang.   
  
'Isn't it ironic? Don't you think?' Alanis sang out as if to dramatize the moment.   
  
Claire cocked her eyebrows and wondered who could be outside. Steve was at work and his friends only came by on Monday  
nights to watch football. Other than that, no one came to see her. She pulled the door open, expecting to see a girl scout or someone  
else. To her surprise, a tall man with fine red hair and deep cobalt eyes stood in front of her.   
Blinking a few times as if what she were seeing was a mirage, her eyes suddenly widened. "Oh...dear..." she closed her eyes  
to gather it all in. "Leon?"  
The corner of Leon's lips curled upward into the familiar Kennedy grin and he nodded. "Hello Claire."  
Time had certainly been good to him. She heard somewhere that men don't stop growing until they turn 25, Leon had obviously  
been using those years wisely. The last time she had seen him, he was 5'11'', now, at 32, he was a strapping 6'4''. And the once  
lean muscles he had were more defined and robust.   
"Leon, what are you doing here?" she asked, the trashbag falling from her hands to the floor.  
Leon laughed a bit discomforted. "Well, I just got back in town. A while ago Chris said that when I came back I could stay with  
him for a little while... Now he's living with Rebecca." He pursed his lips for a moment. "Chris and Rebecca, who would've   
thought THAT would happen?"  
Claire chuckled and nodded. "It's ironic, isn't it?"   
"It sure is." Leon replied. "Yeah, and Chris felt totally bad about it. He said even though he didn't have any space, he said that  
you might."  
Claire's breath caught in her throat. Oh goodness... How could Chris have done this? He KNEW how temperamental Steve  
could be. He could barely tolerate Chris spending the night when his house was being sprayed for termites. Surely, he wouldn't  
allow Leon to even set foot in his house.   
'Chris is doing this because he's trying to protect you.' Her mind rationalized. ' This is your own doing. You should never have   
gone crying to him that one time.' Claire just managed to contain her self-blaming nod. Her mind thought back to about a year  
ago. Steve had gotten really into drinking then, claiming it was a way to release himself from his parent's memory. He came home  
a little drunk that night. Claire had waited up for him to confront him about something Chris had told her a few weeks before.   
Apparently, Chris had seen Steve at a night club with some woman when he was SUPPOSED to be doing paperwork at the  
construction site with his boss.   
Claire had waved it away thinking nothing of it, but the thought gnawed and gnawed at her brain until she felt she would burst.  
That night, she met Steve head-on about it once he came home. Steve glared at her angrily and indicted her of not believing him,  
the woman was just an old friend from out of town that was in for then night.  
'Steve, if you wanted to meet an old friend, why didn't you just TELL me? I would've understood.' she said.  
Steve scoffed and shook his head. 'You women never understand. You're always either fussing with make-up or consumed  
with jealousy. I saved you a lot of grief by not saying anything. Besides, it's in the past, why don't we forget about it?'  
'But you TOLD me you were working with your boss---you lied to me.' Claire said.  
Steve threw a fit then, accusing her of taking someone else's word over his, saying that he couldn't trust her completely either.  
He said so many hurtful things to her that night, including making nasty remarks about her relationship with her brother.   
'How can that be normal? No two siblings are that close.' Steve spat impertinently.   
'How dare you!' she exclaimed. 'You don't understand Steve. Chris and I grew up half our lives without our parents. We were  
all each other had.'  
'Exactly.' Steve replied in a suggestive way.  
'Oh forget it, I knew it would be impossible to get a straight answer from you.' Claire turned and headed for the bedroom. 'You're  
just what Chris said you were.'  
She left Steve alone in the living room, and shut the door to the bedroom. She turned her stereo on and laid down on the bed.  
Suddenly, the door flew open, the hinges almost flying off. Steve's eyes were bloodshot and he was fuming.  
'What did your brother say about me?' he asked.  
'I don't have to tell you.' Claire replied coolly, daring to test his patience. Big mistake. Huge.   
Steve reached over and seized Claire's shoulder, pulling her up to her feet. 'Claire, I'm not fucking around with you. What the   
hell did your damn brother say about me?'  
'Steve, you're hurting me!' Claire pleaded, trying to squirm around.  
'I don't give a shit!' Steve yelled, Claire's eyes teared as the alcohol on his breath stung her eyes. 'What the hell did he say?!'  
'He said you were a lewd, horny bastard with five hands!' she exclaimed. That wasn't really what he said, but she feared that  
if she told him the truth, he would kill Chris. Steve thrusted her back against the wall which barely dazed her.   
'Don't do that to me!' she shouted at him.  
So fast that she couldn't stop him, Steve punched her straight across her face. He hit her so hard she actually saw stars. She didn't  
know what hurt the most, what he had done or how hard he had done it. She crumpled to the floor and Steve stared down at her  
disgustedly. He kicked her roughly in the stomach and turned to the bed.   
Enraged at what he had done, Claire swept her foot around and knocked Steve off his feet Steve fell to the floor and passed   
out. Staggering in pain, Claire left the apartment on her motorcycle and headed to Chris' house. When she told him the whole incident  
he forbade her to go back to Steve. But of course Steve won her over again and things returned back to the way they were before.  
But there were frequent occasions where Steve met up with a new woman at a club or restaurant. He always said they were a   
cousin or some distant relative. He was related to half of the California and was turning Claire into a laughing stock.  
"Claire?" a voice from the present called.   
Claire shook her head to shake away her reverie and looked up to see Leon looking down at her.   
"Um... I know it'll be an inconvenience but I really need a place to stay." he looked like a little puppy dog. "Just for a few weeks,  
then I'll be out of her faster than that." He snapped his fingers to dramatize.  
Claire thought for a brief moment and was about to shake her head. Steve would kill her. She couldn't be stupid.  
"Sure, I don't see why you can't stay." she smiled. "Oh, my manners are terrible, why don't you come in?"  
"Thank you." Leon said gratefully.   
"No problem." Claire said, feeling a sense of relief and security wash over her.   
She led Leon into the living room and sat him down.  
"So... um... what have you been up to?" she asked. "Chris told me that you joined the military."  
"Yeah, I was in the Army for six years. My service ended last year..." he gestured proudly to his head. "I got my hair back."  
Claire laughed. "I noticed. Where was the last place you were stationed?"  
"Ireland. Which is good because my mom returned there after dad died."  
Leon went on and on about all the things he had been up to and felt completely dull. What had she been the past eight years? What   
had she accomplished? 


	3. My Sacrifice

Chapter Two:  
  
  
  
  
  
"Absolutely not." Steve declared in a no-nonsense manner when Claire brought up Leon's situation to him later that day. Claire  
was right about him not being too delighted when he walked in and saw Leon sitting on the couch.   
"WHY not?" Claire demanded.  
"Because he needs to learn how to stand on his own two feet instead of running to his friends whenever life doesn't go his way."   
Steve said with a superior tone in his voice. Almost as if he were talking about a son, rather than a friend. "A man, that's what he needs  
to be."  
Claire sighed and just managed not to roll her eyes. If she showed any signs of frustration or annoyance, it would make Steve's   
temperamental balance tip right over to the dark side.  
"Well, Steve, what do you expect him to do?" she asked him. "Sleep in his car? Remember when we drove across the country  
to visit your grandfather? You remember how uncomfortable that was?"  
Steve let out a condescending chuckle and shook his head. "Oh, I don't think Leon will have to worry to much about that. He  
doesn't HAVE a car."  
Claire raised her eyebrows and her mouth opened but no sound came out. "He doesn't have a car?" she repeated.  
"No." Steve replied as he opened a can of beer. He took a long swig before wiping his mouth off. "The man rides a damn   
motorcycle for Christssake."  
At that, Claire's heart fluttered. A motorcycle? How long had it been since she'd been NEAR one of those things? Steve saw  
the excited look in her eyes and he shook his head, simutaneously smashing whatever hopes Claire's mind had begun to conjure.  
"I know what you're thinking--and I don't want you anywhere near it." he said. "This place is bad as it is. I don't need you getting  
hurt for one ride on a piece of junk metal."  
"You don't understand, Steve." Claire defended helplessly, remembering her prized Harley. "Your soul never wore biker   
leather. It's hard to understand what kind of thrill you get when you ride one of them."  
"I would think you get enough thrills around here without your bike." Steve smirked before patting her knee and disappearing into  
the bathroom.   
Claire stared at him in disbelief. Why couldn't he understand the needs SHE had? She did the best that he could when Steve  
complained about his, why couldn't he try to do the same? She gazed at the clock beside the bed and sighed. It was almost time  
to pull her casserole out of the oven.   
Before she could get up though, Steve returned and plopped himself down in the arm chair across from her. He stared evenly  
at her before looking down at his hands thoughtfully. "He can stay for a little while." he told her, then quickly raised his hand. "But   
I'm telling you, if he does one thing to get on my bad side he's outta here like that."  
"Really?" Claire asked, surprised. "He can stay?"  
"Yeah, yeah." Steve replied as if bored with the subject. "Just make sure he's grateful."  
"He is. Thank you, Steve." Claire said.  
Steve waited a moment before cocking his head to one side. "And? Don't you love me?"  
Claire supressed a groan as she stood up and started towards him. "Yes, Steve." she took the can of beer out of his hand, took  
a long gulp herself before handing it back to him. "I love you very much."  
She left the room and walked down the hall to see Leon sitting on the couch. He had turned the TV off and was staring into  
space, his facial features arranged in an intense pensive expression. She hesitated and stared at him for a little while. He looked  
so deep in thought she hated to disturb him. Slowly, she crept up to him and just barely tapped his shoulder when he whipped   
around and stared up at her.  
"Oh, um, did I bother you?" she asked, jumping back from his abrupt movement.  
Leon shook his head quickly before replying, "No."  
Claire smiled and started to sit next to him when the bedroom door opened and she quickly changed direction and sat on the  
settee across from him. She heard Steve's footsteps before seeing him appear from the hallway, buttoning up his shirt.   
"I'm going out." Was all he simply said.  
"Where?" she asked, turning so she could face him.  
"OUT." Steve repeated and stopped in his tracks. He looked from Leon to Claire then leaned over the back of the couch and  
gave Claire a long, hard kiss on her mouth.   
He got up and cast a scornful look at Leon before leaving the apartment.   
Leon squirmed uncomfortably. "I take it he's not too happy about me staying here?"  
"He's not thrilled with the idea, no." Claire said lamely. "...But I am. I'm glad you're here."  
"Really?" Leon asked, his eyes lighting up. His eyes were a recherché type of blue that Claire had never been able to name.   
"Yes, really." She replied.  
  
  
"Do you arm wrestle, Leon?" Steve asked, slurring slightly as he walked through the door the next morning.   
Claire lifted her head from her hands and breathed a heavy sigh. He wasn't lying in some motel room with some prostitute or freezing  
to death in the gutters. Her relief turned into anger as Steve sat down next to Leon, his eyes looking fierce, challenging. Leon   
gave Claire a quick sideways glance and then shrugged nonchalantly.   
"I did some with a couple of guys in the Army..." he trailed off.  
"Great." Steve said before he could continue. He settled his arm on the table, knocking over a glass of orange juice. Claire   
clenched her teeth and grabbed for the wash rag near the sink.  
Sopping up the juice before it could drip off the table, she cleared her throat.   
"Uh, Steve? Where were you? You were gone all night." She said.   
"I was out with a bunch of guys." Steve replied distractedly. Leon linked his hand with Steve's, his posture taking on the usual,   
defensive arm-wrestler stance.   
"Let's do two out of three." Steve said. "GO."  
The two began, their muscles tensing as their arms fought to take the other's down. Claire could see that Leon was holding back  
because of Steve's obvious drunkeness. Claire pressed her lips together so that they turned a pale white.   
"With some guys?" Claire said.  
"Yeah, we stayed out a long time." Steve said, straining against Leon.  
"Why didn't you call?" she queried. "I was worried."  
With that, Leon pinned Steve's arm to the table. Steve bit his bottom lip and growled in a low voice.   
"Again." he ordered and Leon shrugged, returning back to his defensive posture.   
"Steve?" Claire pressed.  
"I don't know." Steve replied. "There weren't any phones where we were."  
"That's lame. Every place has telephones. They have ever since 1976 when they were invented. It's very hard to find a place   
without one." She said.   
"Look, honey, not now." Steve said, waving her away with his free hand as if she were nothing but an annoying bug.  
"Well, then WHEN?" She demanded, slamming her hand down on the table. "I stayed up all night waiting for you to come home.  
I was scared to death."  
"Yeah, you look like it too." he replied carelessly.  
Claire felt taken aback. If she had dark circles under her eyes and wrinkles in her forehead it was because of all the sleepless  
nights Steve went out, leaving her alone at the apartment.   
"You--you--" Claire stammered.  
"Look, Claire, go to sleep if you're so tired of everything." Steve replied. He mumbled something that Claire couldn't hear, but  
apparently Leon did. Steve suddenly yelped as Leon gripped his hand in an anaconda death clasp and slammed his arm down   
into the table.   
"Eeeh.." Steve groaned, clutching his hand and grimacing in pain. He then held his head in his hand and stood. "Boy, that went   
right to my hangover. I'm going to bed now."  
Frowning deeply, Claire spoke up tensely, "What about work, Steve?"  
"What? Oh yeah, call the construction site and tell them that I won't be coming in today, will you hon?" He said just as he walked  
through the door, shutting it before she could get a word in edge-wise.   
Claire dug her fingernails deep into the table and sighed heavily, letting out all the tension that had mounted all through the night.  
She stared fixedly at the bedroom door, as if she could stare long enough to make him come out and talk to her. Or force him  
to. Leon was gazing at her curiously and she finally turned to him and forced a smile. "Steve can be so rambunctious after a night  
out with his friends."  
"He goes out a lot?" he asked, not believing her false air of negligence.  
"Yes. He does." Claire said as she poured herself some orange juice and took a sip. Then she grabbed some toast and started  
to butter it. "Sometimes he has a little too much to drink, you know, but who ever said that was a bad thing." The wheels in her  
mind were practically flying off their spokes as she thought of a way to gracefully slip out of this conversation. She bit into her  
toast, chewed about a thousand times and then swallowed. It felt like clumps of cement going down and then stuck like tape to   
the sides of her stomach. "I'll bet you've done a lot of that stuff when you were in the army, huh?"  
Leon stared at her for a few moments before surrendering. "Well, I can't say that I haven't." He told her. "I think it's cool you  
don't make too much of a fuss about all of this."  
'Sometimes I wish I could...' Claire thought desperately. 'I wish I could have the old Steve back.'  
She closed her eyes as a terrible dread came over her. Steve wasn't going to come back. He was too far gone. Why hadn't   
she seen it when she had the chance to escape? 


	4. Tears: Private and Proud

Chapter Three:  
  
  
  
"So, he'll be staying with you for HOW long?" Chris asked her as he poured himself some coffee. Claire looked down into  
her cup of tea and traced her index finger along the brim of the cup.   
"Only until he gets settled." She replied taking a tiny sip.   
"And Steve... is OKAY with all of that?" Chris asked again as he sat down across from her.  
"Yes. He's very okay with the idea." Claire said, lying through her teeth. She took another sip and saw Chris glaring at her over  
her cup. "Oh, all right, he's not too okay about it. But he already agreed and he's just going to have to deal with it."  
"Ooh, how catty." Chris teased. "You never hear Cinderella talking about her Prince Charming like that."  
Deciding to ignore that remark, she polished off her tea and stood up. "So, how are you and Rebecca doing?" She headed  
towards the dish washer. "Have you gotten her knocked up to your liking yet?" She asked in Rebecca's high, bouncy voice.  
"I'm not sure." Chris said as he opened up the newspaper. "We don't really bother to take precautions."  
"Fabulous. I'm anxious to see the result of that in a few months." Claire said sarcastically, slipping her cup into the dish rack and   
shutting the door.   
"Hey, I arrested this guy last night!" Chris exclaimed, pointing at a small section at the police blotter page.   
Claire peered closely at the small sentence that Chris was indicating. "You must feel so proud. Arresting a priest who was on  
his way to say a prayer over some dying man's hospital bed."  
"The law halts for no one." Chris said sanctimoniously. "Although I've had to make exceptions for all those times that bastard hit  
you."  
Claire rolled her eyes and sat back down. "Did you come all the way here to patronize me?"  
"No. Hell no. God...no. Claire," He said remorsefully. "...I came here to visit you. You're my sister. I came because I wanted   
to see you. I haven't been able to talk to you like I used to for a long time."  
Tensing, she stared at him closely for a moment. "What are you saying? We talk."  
"Yeah, but you hold back." Chris said. "You're tense and sad and depressed and you don't talk about what's bothering you."  
"Chris..." She paused, her nose was beginning to sting. She wanted to just fall into his brotherly arms and cry her heart out. Tell  
him everything. Every little pain and misery that flowed through her veins. But she just couldn't. "Can we just not talk about   
this right now?"  
"Then when?" Chris pressed on.   
"Just...not right now." Claire replied.   
Footsteps sounded from outside and the door opened and Leon walked in.  
"Afternoon all." He said as he shook his coat off his shoulders. "It's getting chilly out there. Hey Chris."  
"Hey Leon," Chris said as he drank up his coffee. "How are you doing?"  
"Good, good. I just came back from an interview." Leon said.   
"Oh really, what for?" Chris asked.  
"Just something that I've been looking into for a while." Leon replied. "Is that coffee?"  
"No, prune juice." Chris replied. "No, it is coffee."  
"You haven't changed a bit have you Redfield?" Leon joked as they talked for a little bit.   
Claire felt relief flood through her and she sat down. She wouldn't have to face her brother until his next visit. Which was good,  
she supposed.   
"I'm not so sure about going back into law enforcement. At least not with the police department. Maybe with the FBI." Leon   
told Chris as he filled him in on all the things that had been going on in his career.   
"Too many memories, huh?" Chris asked. "I know what you mean. But you know, life goes on. I guess I realized that so it wasn't  
too bad when I came back. At least I didn't see Umbrella where ever I turned."  
Claire twisted around to look at Chris sharply. What was he implying? It took a second for her to realize that he wasn't even  
talking to her. She hadn't been following their conversation too carefully, but anything and everything that had to do with Umbrella  
caught her attention. Yes, even now. She just never found it in her heart to let it go. Maybe because everywhere she turned she  
saw a little bit of Umbrella in her own home. Steve was so bitter and domineering it made him seem no better than any of those  
despicable, power-hungry monsters. Time and time again Claire found herself wanting to strangle him but then quickly reminding  
herself that Steve HAD lost his entire family to the corporation, she had to be patient. But for how long?  
  
  
Claire laid still in her bed, paralyzed with dread. Beside her, Steve lay, breathing deep and heavily. Slowly, almost moving an  
inch at a time, Claire turned onto her side. Her muscles ached something terrible as she did so. Steve had come home that night  
fairly sober and obviously in a very...excited mood. Claire shivered and trembled as she picked up the condom Steve had used  
and then tossed it quickly into the waist basket. Swallowing hard, she slipped out of bed and into her bathrobe.   
Walking to the door was a chore. Almost as hard as pulling one-hundred and twenty pounds of dead weight up Mount   
Everest. Steve had used every part of her that night in the most degrading and humiliating ways. He was the king of inflicting  
pain and harboring un-realistic demands. Trying desperately to push those thoughts away, she entered the quiet hallway. She  
was sure Leon was sleeping, so she could slip into the bathroom to clean herself up without too many questions.   
Closing the door behind her, she turned the water in the tub on. A warm bath was what she needed right now. She reached  
to the shelf across from the toilet and turned on some light meditation music. The sounds of a Forte piano filled the small space  
and Claire hurried to lower it down. She set the volume to a pitch above a whisper and then added some soothing bubbles to   
the tub as it gathered water.  
Once the tub was full and foamy, she took her robe off and eased herself into it. The warm water was soothing but still not  
enough to completely remove the terrible pain she felt shooting through her back, legs and pelvic area. The music switched to   
a powerful Bach tune and Claire felt the uncried tears fall down her cheeks. Relieved to be free, they fell, one after another until  
they nearly overflowed the bathtub. Finally, she ran out of tears, she just sat in silence, sniffling and coughing violently from all  
the crying she had done.   
Suddenly, the door flew open and Leon appeared in the doorway. Claire's eyes widened in shock and then hurried to cover  
her breasts which were just visible in the sea of bubbles.   
"Oh freak, I'm so sorry!" Leon exclaimed as he jerked around so fast Claire thought he would trip one foot over the other.   
Even though he was facing away from her, he held his hand to his eyes and looked down as he felt for the door to close it. "God,  
Claire, I'm sorry--I'm so sorry! I'll just...I'll just close this." He said awkwardly as he slammed it a little harder than necessarily.  
Claire felt the redness subside from her cheeks and replaced with a soft blush. Steve had seen her naked enough times so he  
barely gave modesty and embarrassment a second thought. She quickly got out and slipped into her robe. Draining the tub, she  
headed back to the bedroom. Pausing outside, she peered carefully into the living room. Leon was sitting on the couch, his elbows  
on his knees, his hands clasped loosely and held just below his chin. He was staring off into space, his mortification still very   
evident in his face, but also something different on his face. Before Claire could dwell on it too long, she shut herself up in her  
room. 


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five:  
  
  
  
  
  
Claire set the pot of macaroni and cheese down on the table, her eyes never leaving her book, before she took out the pitcher  
from the dishrack to make lemonade. After mixing it, she put in the icebox to get cold. She heard a click from the door, she turned  
and saw Steve walk in.  
"Hi honey." she said smiling. She walked over to him and gave him a hug. He surprised her by sweeping her into his arms and  
giving her a big kiss. "Well, you're in a good mood." she observed.  
"Better than good!" Steve exclaimed, his eyes bright and happy. "I just got promoted!"  
Her smile widened and she gave him another kiss. "Oh Steve, I'm so happy for you!"  
"I know! Pretty soon, we'll be able to get a wonderful little house and leave this apartment!" Steve exclaimed. "I know how long  
you've waited for this."  
Claire felt her heart rip open with joy. It had been such a long time since Steve had been so euphoric. Now it was like a summer  
wind had just blew in, carrying the remains of a lush spring season.   
"And guess what." Steve said, setting her down and getting a plate full of macaroni and cheese. "Our crew has an out of state job   
in two days--the boss' cousin or something--in two days."  
"Oh... really?" she said, sitting down. "Where?"  
"Nevada." Steve said, he opened the cabinet and frowned. "Where's my whiskey?"  
"You ran out. In Nevada?" Claire repeated.  
"Yeah, the state of whores and gambling." Steve chuckled at his trite joke.  
Claire felt her spirits drop but managed a wavering smile. "Oh. Well... Did it have to be this week?"  
"Yes. Why?" Steve asked as he started to eat.  
"Because, this week we celebrate our eight year anniversary." Claire said, her voice softening for sentimental reasons. "Don't you  
remember?"  
Steve thought for a moment before shrugging. "How can you keep up? It's not like we're married. I mean, the first date   
anniversary, the first kiss anniversary, the first fuc-- well, that too. All those anniversaries can lose their novelties after the first few  
years."  
Claire scooped some food onto her plate and nodded dolefully. "Yeah, I guess you're right."  
"Cheer up, babe." Steve said. "Maybe before we leave we'll see a movie."  
A movie? That's it? She pressed her lips together and tried to be positive. "Well, a movie would be wonderful, Steve. People  
are saying that 'A Walk to Remember' is nice--although they think that it's ridiculous when singers start to act. And if you want  
a creepy movie, 'The Mothman Prophecies' are pretty good."  
"Well, we'll see about it." Steve said, shoveling macaroni into his mouth. "Great, by the way."  
"Thanks." Claire replied, listlessly sliding her food around with her fork. Suddenly her eyes widened. "Oh Steve! What if we just  
went out dancing? Wouldn't that be fun?"  
Steve chewed his food deliberately, considering every aspect of this thoroughly, then he shook his head disapprovingly. "Claire,  
I don't think so."  
Claire's shoulders slumped slightly. "Why not?"  
"Because, it is just not something that I enjoy doing now a days." He replied. "It was fun in the beginning, but now I'd just like to  
be away from all of that racket."  
Claire sighed and stared at the space in front of her for a moment, trying to restrain whatever argument would escape her.  
"It seems to me that those bars and strip clubs you go to are pretty boisterouos." She mumbled.  
"What?" Steve asked, his eyes snapping towards her tetchily, his eyebrows dipping into a chary frown.  
"I said, 'It seems to me that those bars and strip clubs you go to are pretty boisterous.' " Claire said, enunciating each word.   
"Is that so?" Steve asked, setting his fork down and stared at her.   
Claire closed her eyes ruefully and tilted her head down. "Steve... I didn't mean that... I just--"  
"No, it's obviously something that's been on your mind for a long time..." Steve said, slowly rising. "So why don't you just get it  
all off your chest?"   
Unexpectedly, he grabbed his plate and flung it at the wall. Claire cringed as it slammed then shattered into a thousand little  
pieces. She jumped back as Steve grabbed for the rest of the dishes and soon the tiles were carpeted with sharp ceramic pieces.  
"Steve!" She exclaimed, leaping up.  
Steve grabbed for her arm and threw her over the side of the couch, nearly ripping her arm out of the socket. In one cat-like bound,  
he was at her side, clutching her chin in his fingers and squeezing it so hard it felt it would slide off any second.   
"Anything else that you want to tell me?" He asked. Then, shaking her violently, he said, "WELL?"  
Claire fought against Steve's grasp and shook her head. "No." She whispered softly.  
Steve shoved her away and glared at her. "Why do you always insist on complicating things?"  
Inhaling then exhaling deeply, he turned and disappeared into the room. Once the door safely shut, Claire wiped away a tear. She  
wouldn't cry. She wouldn't. No matter how much it hurt.  
  
  
Glop glop glop glop glop glop... The coffee percolator droned and filled the room with the refreshing smell of Folgers, nudging  
Claire's senses out of a heavy sleep. Her eyes opened and she blinked a few times before she realized she had fallen asleep on   
Leon's day bed the previous night. She yawned sleepily and sat up. From the wall that lead to the kitchen, Leon poked his head  
out and smiled brightly.  
"Hey, how do you like your eggs?" He asked.  
Claire smiled and stood. "I like scrambled." She said, walking over to him.   
"Ah, nice and simple." Leon said. "Did you sleep well?"  
"Yeah." Claire said. "Where did YOU sleep?"  
Leon grinned mischeivously before scooping up a sunny-side up egg onto a plate. "Where do YOU think?" he asked. "Oh,  
and by the way, last night?--You tried."  
Claire reddened slightly before turning away. "Leon... please...don't say anything when Steve's--"  
"Steve isn't here." Leon said softly. "And even if he were, why should it matter? We're just kidding around."  
Claire swallowed weakly before shaking her head. "Nevermind."  
"Claire--"  
"Nevermind!" She declared forcefully.   
Leon's smile faded. "Claire... what's wrong?"  
"How is your new job going?" she asked, instead of answering.  
"Claire--" He began.  
"HOW is your new job going?"   
Giving up, he sighed. "It's going okay."  
"Good." She said firmly.  
She snatched up a coffee pot and poured herself a cup. "Did you fix many cars yesterday?"  
"Only about four." Leon said. "I came back around eight o' clock last night. You were sleeping on the couch, so I didn't want  
to wake you up. So I slept on the carpet."  
"Oh... God, Leon, I'm so sorry." Claire said. "You should've woke me up."  
"No, it's no problem." Leon replied, he smiled softly. "You looked so peaceful and beaut...um, nice... I thought it wouldn't be  
right to wake you."  
Claire looked up at him and saw his deep blue eyes had suddenly turned lighter, as if a fire had just been lit from behind them.  
She remembered the first time she had seen him. A gun wasn't exactly what she had expected, then again, neither was a horde of  
flesh-eating zombies. Not long after they and little Sherry Birkin had escaped, Claire saw that Leon's eyes could be so soft and  
protective... They could even get very sexy when he wasn't aware of it. Claire took a few quiet breaths to calm her thumping  
heart and slow her heavy breathing. She reached over the sink and opened the window above it, all the heat from the cooking was  
making the tiny space very warm. 


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six:  
  
  
  
"So, how did you like the movie?" Claire asked.   
"It was okay." Steve replied. "It wasn't what I expected that's all."  
"Oh." Claire said softly, stirring her milkshake around. "I was kind of expecting it to be better than that, too."  
"You can never trust these movies." Steve said, staring at her harshly, as if he somehow felt that this was her fault.   
"I'm sorry." She said, sighing and not feeling one bit sorry. Why should she have? "Steve, since the movie was kind of dull, why  
don't we go out and do something fun? To lighten up? You're leaving tomorrow night. Why don't we?"  
"Why don't we what?" Steve asked.   
"Go out." Claire said. "Dancing, a concert, whatever... stuff we USED to do."  
Steve sighed deeply and shook his head. "Damn, Claire, I just don't know. I'm not in the mood."  
Just then, two girls, about sixteen or seventeen years of age passed by in skimpy halters and miniskirts. Steve's eyes followed them   
with interest and Claire felt the tiny hairs on her back prickle in anger. Didn't he CARE that she was unhappy? That she felt neglected?  
That she wanted better on her anniversary than some crappy movie and a porno later on? Lord knows she had told him more   
than once.   
"Of course." She said, angrily. "You're never in the mood for anything anymore. Except getting laid."  
Steve snapped his head around and glared at her sharply. "What?"  
Claire took her time in repeating herself, sipping a little bit of her milkshake then licking her lips after.   
"I said," she replied slowly, "All that you care about is getting laid."  
"That isn't true." Steve said frowning deeply at her.  
"Yes it is." Claire said frustratedly, "Don't tell me that it isn't, because it is!"  
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Steve demanded.  
"You want to know? All right, I'll tell you." She replied, standing up. "I've put up with your demands and needs and unfaithfulness  
for eight years. I'm tired of it."  
People started to turn around to look at her, Claire didn't care, she was on a rollercoaster and she couldn't stop herself or her  
emotions from coming out.   
"What are you talking about, Claire? You know that I love you." Steve said, obviously desperate to have the wounded part in this  
argument.  
"You do NOT love me!" She exclaimed, slamming her hand down on the table as more people stopped to listen to her. "It isn't   
love when you hurt and humiliate a person all the time. Love isn't when you cheat on them left and right and expect them to welcome  
you back with open arms! And love isn't something that you can trample on for long and think that it's still going to be there--if it  
isn't nourished then it disappears."  
Out of the corner of her eye, Claire saw a young woman nod and hit her boyfriend on the arm, as if she were saying all that   
they were experiencing. Ignoring them, she turned back to Steve and folded her arms. "I've washed your clothes, cooked your  
meals, kept your house the way you want it, I've been everything that you've ever asked me to be--EVERYTHING!" She exhaled  
heavily and held back the tears in her eyes. "But... Steve, I just can't be everything anymore."  
"Claire," Steve said in a low, warning tone. "If you don't stop acting crazy, you'll never see me again--"  
"BULLSHIT." She shouted. "Go ahead and be with your little blonde floozies. I DON'T GIVE A FUCK. Just don't expect me  
to take you back."   
With that, she grabbed her milkshake and threw it at Steve. Throwing it down on the ground, she stomped away, the spectators  
around her clapping and whistling. This was all entertainment for them. It was nice to finally have SOME attention but they didn't  
know or understand her secret pain that she'd been suffering for so long. Claire choked back the sobs in her throat as she tripped along the mall  
her ankles aching terribly from the red spiked heels on her feet. Leaning against the wall in aggravation, she took them off and  
started away again. Some men who saw her display at the food court whistled at her flirtatiously.  
"Hey, baby, looking for a new one already?" One asked.  
"Why don't you take me home with you? Come on, I'll be good. REAL good."  
Trying to block them out, she pressed her palms against her ears and pushed away the double doors that lead into the bathrooms  
and payphones. Finally releasing a sob, she fell against the wall and let the tears roll down. Looking down, she rummaged in her  
small handbag for a quarter and then took hold of the payphone receiver. Once she put the quarter into the slot, she realized something,  
she had no idea who she would call.  
  
  
  
Leon Kennedy stared blankly up at the ceiling as he laid down on his back. Why was he still awake, when just a second ago he  
felt that he would crash out as soon as his head hit the pillow? A heavy feeling had settled on his chest, making him feel light-headed  
and tipsy, every now and then a stinging twinge would invade his nose and his eyes would start to water. Damn these allergies.   
Heaving a breath he lampooned his pathetic attempt at rationalization. Turning to the side, he caught a picture of Claire sitting in  
Steve's lap, smiling happily as he playfully tickled her side. He had been away a long time. He hadn't even known that Claire had  
been seeing Steve for the past eight years, let alone living with him. He had let himself blindly believe that she would still be available.  
Scoffing in disdain, he turned away, then after some thought, looked back.   
'That man in the picture could have been you.' He chided himself. 'Claire could be in YOUR arms right now. Where have you been?'  
Good question. For the past seven and a half years he'd been moving from fort to fort, hanging out with men whose testosterone   
levels were higher than their I.Q.s. Leon had gone to every strip club and drink out that his Army buddies had talked him into going  
to but he never did find any woman who matched up to Claire Redfield's beauty and vibrant, pure personality. He hadn't known   
just how much he missed her until he came back.   
With a groan, he pulled himself up and headed for the kitchen nook for something to eat. Anything to get his mind of Claire  
would be perfect. Opening the refrigerator he peeked in and rummaged around, to his dismay, nothing looked that appetizing. He  
looked through the cabinets and finally found a bag of pretzels. Before he closed it, he noticed that there were quite a few bottles  
of vodka, whiskey and tequilla on the topmost shelf, turning back to the fridge, he opened it up and saw a couple of beer bottles  
scattered around. He'd never seen Claire drink anything like this stuff. Steve, on the other hand, was always drinking some form  
of alcohol whenever he saw him. He had just never let it bother him until now.   
Leon ripped open the bag of pretzels and began to munch on it and flipped through the channels on the TV. Nothing really  
interesting. All the shows he saw were about romance and other stuff that he was trying to forget about. Finally resigning himself  
he sat back and allowed himself to think of Claire once more. As if on cue, the phone rang and he reached over to answer it.  
"Hello?" He said into the receiver.  
Silence on the other end.  
"Hello?" He repeated. He was about to hang up when he sensed light breathing on the other end. "Is anyone there?"  
"Leon?" A hesitant voice spoke up.   
"Yes?" He asked, sitting up suddenly. "Claire? Where are you? Is something wrong?"  
"Can you come and pick me up?" She asked in a small voice. 


	7. chapter Seven

Chapter Seven:  
  
  
  
  
Claire pulled her jacket thin sweater tightly around her shoulders and watched numbly as her breath formed a cloud of steam  
just centimeters from her nose. Thinking now, she realized that it was foolish to have chosen such thin material to wear against the  
autumn chill. Her red spiked heels lay beside her feet, forgotten, just looking at them made her toes and heels throb in a dull, aching  
pain. How she had been able to stay in them for two hours was a mystery. Pulling her knees up to her chin, she massaged her  
raw feet and tried to keep her eyes dry. It was completely dark in this area of the parking lot and the broken street lamp left much  
to be desired but Claire didn't think she could find the strength to move.  
She desperately wanted to crawl up into a ball and die. After debating in the freezing corridor for nearly fifteen minutes, she  
replaced the phone on it's cradle and hobbled back to where she had left Steve. She stopped short when she was nearly seven  
meters away, hidden by a tall mall tree. Steve was still sitting where she left him, his shirt was stained a chalky pink but that seemed  
the furthest thing from his mind. Sitting beside him, gazing at him adoringly were the two teenage girls who had passed by them  
earlier. Claire felt indignation flare up in her cheeks, this proved her point exactly. No sooner did she turn her back did Steve go  
looking for someone new. Then again, maybe she shouldn't have chosen such harsh words.  
No, she wouldn't let Steve make her feel like the bad guy. Heading towards him unsteadily and caught the last part of their  
conversation. One of the girls, the one wearing the turqoise halter leaned over Steve and smiled.  
"Trisha and I were going out to a club." She twirled Steve's auburn hair around her finger. "Want to come?"  
"Depends on what type of coming you mean." Steve said slyly. The girls began to giggle convulsively before Steve agreed. They  
got up and headed in the opposite direction. Claire's temper began to flare and she spun around and stomped away, nearly knocking  
a security guard into the reflecting pool.   
Hot tears spilled over Claire's eyes and clashed with the cold air and she stood up. Maybe she'd better head to a well lit area  
so that Leon would find her more easily. As she walked, the concrete slapping agaisnt her bare feet, she sighed deeply and tucked  
her hands against her sides so that they cradled her elbows. Why hadn't she confronted Steve? Told those little whores off? Ripped  
someone's head clean away? Was she being weak or had she really not wanted to? Deep down in her heart was she really that  
happy to be rid of him?   
A broken black car appeared beside her and the tinted windows rolled down.   
"Hey baby," A sleazy bearded man whistled at her. "I'm kind of lonely and you look like you could use a ride."  
"Sorry if I look interested." Claire smiled disgustedly. "I'm not."  
A frown appeared on the guy's face. "You don't have a choice bitch. You HAVE to be interested."  
Claire rolled her eyes and turned away, flipping her hair over her shoulders in defiance. The man growled fiercely before climbing  
out of his car, grabbing Claire's arm and yanking her back.   
Before he could do anything more, a loud thundering roar sounded from the side. A gorgeous Harley appeared from the   
darkness and did an abrupt 180º turn then stopped short, the driver barely jolted forward. Claire glanced at him closely and saw  
that it was Leon... In one cool, sweeping movement he hopped off the bike and started for them. Leon's eyes swept over her  
and pulled her into him with one arm.   
"Beat it pal," Leon said without even looking at the man. "She's going with me."  
"What are you talking about? I got her first." He protested vehemently.   
Leon whipped around and glared at him. He released Claire and stepped up menacingly to the man. "I tell you, she is going with  
ME."  
The man was about to protest again when Leon grabbed his arm. "Maybe I didn't make myself clear the first and second time."  
Leon forced him to a dark corner so that Claire wouldn't see them but it was painfully obvious from the moans of torture what   
was going on. After a few moments, Leon reappeared and headed for her.  
"So, how are you doing?" Leon asked as he dusted himself off.  
"I'm just peachy keen." Claire said bitterly, trying to be brave but her voice cracked and she placed her hand over her mouth.   
Leon stared at her sympathetically for a moment before shrugging off his leather jacket and putting it on her shoulders. "Come   
on. We'll talk somewhere."  
Claire didn't move right away, it was almost as if she were rooted to that very spot, as if her legs didn't trust Leon's intentions. She  
didn't trust anyone at this point.   
"Claire?" Leon asked, his eyebrow raised.  
Claire shook her head. "No. I'm sorry, Leon. I shouldn't have called you down here. I can get home by myself."   
"Don't be stupid, Claire." Leon said, shaking his head. "I can't just leave you here."  
"Yes you can--"   
"No, I can't--" He disagreed.  
"YES, you can--Steve did!" Claire interjected before Leon could finish.  
She blinked back any tears that had started to form and crossed her arms under her breasts. Leon's hand pressed against the  
small of her back and massaged it reassuringly.   
"Come on, you shouldn't be alone right now." He insisted.   
"O-okay." Claire said, hicupping hard.   
His hand still on her back, Leon led her to his motorcycle and helped her on. As she slid onto the smooth leather seat she felt  
the familiar rush of adrenaline flood through her veins, this was the first time she had been on a motorcycle in years. Leon handed  
her an extra helmet and climbed on.   
"Hang on tight." He told her.   
Sliding forward Claire wrapped her arms around his waist and held onto him securely. She felt Leon tense for one or two  
seconds before he started up the engine and they took off. Instinctively, Claire sat up straighter, taking pleasure in the wind that  
whipped around her and secretly wishing she could dispose of the helmet to let it flow through her hair. It provided a temporary  
relief from the stress and problems and as Leon sped up the small smile on her face was now a satisfied grin.   
After she had had her feel of freedom Claire leaned her head on Leon's shoulder, suddenly exhausted. They pulled into a gas  
station that had a small chain for Burger King in it.  
"You hungry?" Leon asked her as they parked in a well-lit area.  
Claire shrugged and Leon got off and went inside. Claire slid back and wrapped herself in his jacket as she waited and watched  
as people filled up their gas tanks and then went on their way. Five minutes later, Leon returned with a bag in his hands which he  
promptly put in the alfordja on his motorcycle.   
Claire had no idea where he was taking her but at the moment she didn't care. They drove for about twenty minutes after that  
before they pulled into an old dirt road and a cliffside parking spot that overlooked the Bay bridge and the bright city lights of  
San Francisco. There were two cars parked there also but it seemed like the couples inside were already in a passionate embrace  
and completely dead to the world.  
Leon stepped off and pulled out a blanket which he laid on the ground then pulled out the food that he had bought earlier. Claire  
got off the bike and with some hesitation sat on the blanket next to him. This was sweet of him and all but it made loud alarms and  
a DANGER sign go off in her mind. But even though her heart pounded through all of this, she sat down willingly.   
For awhile they didn't speak, just stared out at the glowing lights until they became blurred and hazy. Finally, Leon turned to  
her and sighed. "So, why don't you tell me what happened?"  
  
  
  
"And then I walk back and see Steve talking to these two little sluts that are just hanging on his every word..." Claire said as  
she stuffed her burger in her mouth.   
Leon gingerly ate a fry and nodded. For the past hour and a half he had sat and listened as Claire poured her soul out to him telling  
him about the private hell she had been living in for the longest time. She didn't speak for the longest time, just chewed furiously  
on her food and looking out at the city lights.   
Swallowing finally, she looked at him, her eyes watery.   
"Where do you think I went wrong?" She asked him. "I mean, did I DO something to make Steve so...miserable? So that he  
would start drinking so much or cheating on me?"  
The hurt in her voice was so all-in that Leon felt angry at Steve and at himself. Why hadn't he been here to help her get through   
all this pain before? To rescue her? And yet, if he had, would it have made any difference?  
Leon sighed and scooted closer to her, he raised his hand and cupped her cheek. "You didn't do anything."  
"Then how did all of this happen?" She asked, suddenly bursting into sobs.  
Leon felt moved to say something, anything, but realized he didn't know the words. He just pressed his lips together and took   
her into his arms and let her cry. Her shoulders rose and fell quickly as her sobs heightened in their intensity. Every time they  
seemed to slow down, they picked right back up again. Almost as if she stopped crying about one thing then started on another.  
It seemed she would never stop but soon enough her sobs receded to sniffles then died completely, leaving her with a terrible  
hiccup.   
Pulling out a napkin, he handed it to her so that she could wipe her eyes and blow her nose. She used up five more. She  
took a few deep breaths then swallowed largely before looking at him right in the eye.   
"Thanks." She said, her voice cracking slightly but still audible.  
"It's okay." Leon told her gently.  
Claire forced a weak laugh and sighed. "I feel so stupid." She looked down at he lap and started to twist one of the napkins  
in her hand. "You must think I'm the most idiotic person in the world."  
Leon shook his head. "No, I don't."  
"Well I wouldn't blame you if you did. I don't know why I've stayed with him so long." She looked down in embarrassment. She  
started to say something but every time she started it seemed she had second thoughts. Finally she just blurted out, "I think the  
love in our relationship died a long time ago....Right along with me."  
Again, Leon shook his head and lifted her chin. "I don't think you did. You could never die. You're too strong. Too much  
of a survivor."  
"You've always believed too much in people, Leon. Even when they've screwed up majorly." Claire said sadly then looked at  
him. "Thank you."  
Before Leon could reply, Claire leaned into his arms and gave him a big hug.   
"I don't know what I would have done if you weren't here."  
Leon couldn't speak to answer her, his throat caught and he couldn't utter one sound. He was too scared that Claire would be  
able to feel the beating of his heart through his shirt. 


	8. Dancing and Diamonds

Chapter Eight:  
  
  
  
  
Loud dance music pounded in Claire's ears and rattled around in her brain. All around her, people were laughing and having  
a good time and their merry-making was starting to rub off on her. Beside her Leon was grinning and making up stupid, goofy  
moves to the music and throwing in old school when it was supposed to be contemporary. It was hilarious.  
Laughing loudly, Claire threw her head back and started to mimic him, once Leon realized this, he hammed it up even more.  
Once he moved onto Rockette-style kicks, Claire fell against him, cackling so luridly she was almost heaving.  
"I'm going to wet myself!" She screamed in his ear.  
"WHAT?!" Leon replied.   
Claire was about to repeat herself then thought better of it, she pointed towards the bathroom instead. She hurried to the  
bathroom and did her business then returned back to see Leon sitting at a table, toying uselessly with his plastic drink umbrella.  
"What's an enthralling guy like yourself doing all alone?" She asked, sitting down next to him.  
Leon looked at her, his left eyebrow cocked. "Enthralling? Claire, you know my vocabulary: Two syllables or less."  
"Sorry, I forgot." She said smiling.  
Claire picked up her drink and sipped while she watched the other couples dance. After a couple more songs, a fast Enrique  
Eglesias song picked up and Leon took hold of her arm.   
"Let's dance!" He said encouragingly.   
Getting up, she followed him onto the dance floor.  
"I didn't know you liked Enrique." She commented incredulously.   
"I don't." He replied. "I just like to mock him. And throw in some Ricky to insult him."  
The corner of her mouth turned up and they started to dance, Leon once again making up the stupidest moves ever thought  
up. By the end of the song Claire's cheeks hurt so much from the face splitting grin she had. This time a slower song came on  
and the lights dimmed. Leon seemed to hold back, his arms dangling at his side. Truth be told, Claire didn't know what to do   
either. It was just a dance, but the implied closeness of the song made it seem uncomfortable.   
Finally, as if by mutual agreement, they stepped closer to each other and were soon swaying side to side. It took nearly a   
minute for Claire to finally relax into it before she laid her head down on Leon's shoulder.   
"You've gotten considerably better since the last time." Claire remarked.  
"Eight years is a long time." Leon said.  
"It is...but still," She added slyly. "You WERE pretty hopeless."  
Leon scoffed. "Will you just let it go? God, you break a girl's foot just ONCE and you're scarred for life."  
"Once? Try more like ten."  
"If I wanted to be insulted, I could've stayed at my Uncle Gene's home. My cousins love teasing me all because I cried when we  
were watching Bambi."  
Claire laughed and shook her head. Taking Leon's hand in hers she studied the lines on his palm and fingers. Forgetting about  
herself and everything around her, she started to trace them for no apparent reason.   
Leon felt her smooth nails tracing the lines on his palm, he looked down but she wasn't looking back up at him. Her eyes were  
hazy and blank, almost as if she were in a trance. Her fingers began to entwine with his and she took firm hold of his hand, released  
it then began the movement once again.  
"Claire?" He asked, breaking her out of her stupor.  
"Hmm?" She garbled, looking up at him.  
"Okay, now you're just flirting with me, so stop it." Leon said, tongue in cheek. He didn't really want her to stop, but the intense  
propinquity between them was starting to affect him.  
"What? Oh! I'm sorry!" She stepped back and blinked a couple of times before shaking her head. "Oh God, I'm sorry, I didn't   
realize what I was doing."  
She looked down guiltily and tucked her hair behind her ear. ' Great job. You're a real damn Casanova, Kennedy. You've  
made her feel bad when that is the last thing she should be right now.'  
"Don't worry about it," He joked lightly. "I was just fucking with you."  
Claire looked up and smiled. "I figured that."  
Leon shuffled his feet a little, a sure sign that he was nervous and then forced a brash grin. "Why don't we get out of here? It's  
1 a.m. and... I've got to get up early for work..." He shrugged.  
"Yeah, let's go now." Claire replied. "I'm beat."  
  
  
Claire blinked tiredly as Leon's motorcycle came to a stop underneath the tall magnolia tree near the apartment building. A  
long, slow breeze blew past them and carried the fresh powdery scent of the last few blossoms.   
"I'm going to crash out and not wake up for about a year." Leon said as he got off.  
"Same here." replied Claire.   
Reaching her arms above her head, she stretched her body out and then took a step forward. The tiny edge of her spiked heel  
caught in a crag in the sidewalk, causing her to fall forward. Claire released an agonized moan as she landed on her hands and  
concrete and tiny bits of gravel dug through her soft skin, scraping and making it bleed.   
"Oh, Claire." Leon grimaced as he knelt beside her and held her up.   
Claire closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip as Leon examined her hand with a twist in his mouth.  
"We'd better get this clean before it gets infected." He said and Claire nodded. With Leon's help, Claire hobbled up the stairs  
and into the apartment where Leon held her hand underneath the faucet water. He instructed her to hold it under until he returned  
with a few bandages and some hydrogen peroxide.   
The blood and dirt washed away and slid down the drain, reminding Claire about her first shower after they had escaped from  
Raccoon City. Their clothes and bodies were caked with filth which quickly quenched Claire's desire for a nice warm bath and  
made her settle for a too cold shower. She spent nearly half an hour scrubbing and rubbing her hair and skin until it returned it it's  
original light honey hue. When she stepped out of the bathroom, neither Leon nor Sherry seemed to recognize her.   
"Here we are." Leon said as he returned.   
He took her hand and cleaned it up a little more before applying a few bandages. Claire winced slightly but held in any complaints.  
"There we go..." He said and patted her lightly.  
Claire smiled then gingerly pressed her palm. It felt numb but she'd survive.   
"Thank you." She said softly.  
"You're welcome." Replied Leon.  
Claire sighed heavily and kicked at her shoes. "Remind me to NEVER wear heels again."  
Leon nodded. "I'm going to hold you to that." He gazed down and grimaced. "Your knee."  
Claire gazed down and saw a long gash from her knee to her mid-thigh. "Ugh."  
"Here." Leon said as he cleaned up that one too.   
She hadn't noticed the wound before because it didn't hurt, but once the peroxide touched her skin, she wailed in pain and   
pushed away from him.  
"Hey, come on." Leon said as he pulled her back and continued to apply the peroxide, Claire biting down on her lip the whole   
time. "Okay... now was that SO bad?"  
Claire frowned and nodded. "Yes."   
Leon laughed and shook his head.   
"I'm going to change." She said and Leon shrugged as he headed for the living room.  
  
  
Leon walked through the quiet hallway and flicked on the light switch. Sitting down on his sofa bed, he laid down then sat   
back up again. It was nearly three o' clock and he was going to be very discombobulated at work the next day... but there was  
no doubt it would be worth it... He smiled suddenly at the memory of Claire's body pressed against his, the warmth still present  
on his chest. She really was a great dancer and he scarcely did her justice as a dance partner that night. But she hadn't seemed   
to care very much. She had a good time, and it was all because of him...  
Remembering something, he reached underneath the bed and pulled out his duffel bag. Looking over his shoulder, he made  
sure that Claire wasn't around. He didn't know if he could openly lie to Claire about this, he was never very good at keeping  
secrets but... Claire wouldn't be able to understand why... why he...  
Digging underneath all of his clothes, he found a brown box that was the size of a Kleenex container. Opening it, he pulled out  
a porcelain jewelry box with a Cameo brocade in the center. Lifting the top open, he gazed at the seven pieces of jewelry that he'd  
collected over the years. He scoffed as he flicked at the little ballerina that stood near the mirror performing an arabesque. This  
just proved what a coward he was. Over the past few years, he'd passed so many jewelry stores with pieces that reminded him  
so much of Claire that he couldn't stop himself from buying them. But once time came to mail it out, he didn't know if he could.  
There was always that nagging feeling that he would be making a fool of himself or that something else or other would go wrong.  
Leon pulled out one of the necklaces that dangled there on one of the little pegs and examined it. It was a pale pink flower shaped   
Pearlesque button necklace. This was what had caught his attention the most. Something about it reminded him about Claire,  
the soft delicate color along with the smooth, tough cubic zarconia in the center was exactly like her personality.  
He had hoped that he could give all of this to her now, but with Steve around, it just didn't seem like the right thing to do. Leon's  
fists clenched tightly and his brows dipped into an intense, angry frown. Who the hell did that little bastard think he was? For  
nearly two hours, Claire had cried her eyes out to him, telling about Steve's infidelity and abusiveness, and Leon had done nothing,  
said nothing. He had kept it all in when all he wanted to do was beat the crap out of him before blowing a whole in his head.  
Seeing Claire's unhappy expression was painful. Almost as painful as when they were at the lowest of their lows in their search  
for Chris and the destruction of Umbrella. Steve didn't know just how valuble Claire was and how lucky he was to have her in  
his life. Leon would kill for just one night with her and he'd sell his soul for even one chance to be with her forever. The little shit  
had heaven on earth and he was willing to just throw it away for some girl who didn't hold a candle to Claire's flame.   
Before he could get any deeper into his rage, he traced a little jade cabochon ring. There were only two rings because his  
friends caught onto his little idea and advised him not to get her too many rings--something about the suggestion of commitment.  
The other ring was a freshwater pearl with little butterfly designs making up the band.   
"Leon?" Claire's voice came from the hallway.  
Leon whipped around and saw her standing only a few feet from him.   
"Oh, um, Claire!" He said as he shoved the jewelry box beneath his pillow.   
"What's that?" She asked, a small smile on her face.   
"Oh that? Oh, that's... um... nothing..." Leon said, and as Claire advanced towards him, he repeated, "Claire, really, it's nothing."  
"It's not 'nothing', otherwise you wouldn't be trying so hard to hide it." Claire replied.   
They struggled for a little while before Leon finally surrendered and Claire giggled greedily as she opened up the box. Her   
smile disappeared as she opened it up and saw the assortment of trinkets inside.  
"Well, this is interesting." Claire said slowly. "Are you--"  
"No, I'm not gay, Claire." Leon interrupted.  
"Oh. Oh!" Claire forced a laugh. "I wasn't going to ask you that."  
"Yes, you were." Leon said, smiling. "Don't worry. It's natural to assume that. No, actually, nothing in there is for me."  
"Oh? Who's it for?" She asked, looking down at all the stuff, her child-like naiveté amusing him.  
"Um... it's for... for you." He said.  
Claire's eyes were on the jewels for only two more seconds before she looked up to him. A smile spread over her face.  
"Really?" She asked.  
Before he could reply, she set down the box and gave him a fierce hug. 


	9. Letting Go

Chapter Nine:  
  
  
  
The feel of soft kisses on her neck made Claire's eyelids flutter open like little butterfly wings. She looked upward, expecting to see Leon's smiling face but instead gazed into Steve's fevered eyes.  
"Good morning, beautiful." He whispered as he fondled her. Her stomach twisted and turned as she smelled Steve's cologne, knowing that just hours ago that scent was fresh on another girl's (or more) body. And now he was touching her breasts and mauling her all over. Just the thought made her want to hurl and little gagging noises emerged from her throat.  
"How's my girl today?"  
Claire pushed herself way and sat up. It was fairly bright and warm in the room and gazing at the clock on the wall, she saw why. It was nearly one in the afternoon.  
"What's the matter, baby?" He asked, trying to pull her back down next to him.  
Whipping away, she stood groggily and straightened herself out. "Did you eat lunch yet?"  
Steve's lips pressed together until they nearly disappeared, but he forced down whatever he'd been about to say and just frowned at her. "No, but I was going to make some--"  
"Then you'd better get something before you finish packing for your trip. You need to be there by morning."  
Steve made an annoying 'tsk-tsk' with his tongue. "Someone isn't happy today..."  
"You should know why." Claire muttered bitterly as she left the bedroom.  
Anger bubbled beneath her skin as she stomped through the hallway and into the kitchen. Something on the table caught her eye, stopping her in her tracks. Her temper began to simmer down as she remembered the gift that Leon had given her just the  
other night.   
Forgetting about her present issues, Steve's philandering and all, she ran her fingers over the delicate design of the porcelain box. Working to the back, she twisted the little key before lifting the lid. 'Music Box Dancer' filled the apartment and Claire felt a smile form on her lips. Her hand went to the little knick-knacks that were neatly displayed inside.   
Despite how Leon thought it made him look foolish, she thought it was unbelievably sweet that he had thought of her all this  
time. Her favorite piece by far was a burnished goldtone floral necklace with pastel rhinestones in green, lavender and pink. It reminded Claire of something the Russian Czar's daughters would have worn.  
Claire had been so pleased with the gift that Leon had given her that she had given him an enormous hug that knocked him on his back.   
Closing her eyes, she breathed in the still-present scent of peppermint. Leon's eyes were full of laughter and confusion as he  
looking into hers. His arms were around her, his hands inches above her bottom and slowly creeping downward. Waiting in an arcane anticipation, she found her heart pounding hard in her chest. Suddenly, her problems with Steve seemed miles away, and  
she was drowning. Drowning in this powerful sensation that seemed to hang over her whenever Leon was around but had just neglected it until now.   
Pulling herself up an inch or two, she shifted until she could dip down comfortably and kiss him with ease. The salt on his lips lingered on hers long after the kiss ended and Claire bent to unbutton his shirt and kiss his hard chest. She moved farther down, sensing the ever mounting pleasure she was creating as the bulge in Leon's pants became more and more apparent. His body was like a magnet for her lips. Just as she was about to unzip him, Leon's hands gripped Claire's head and pulled her back up to face him.  
His face was bright red with restraint and he was breathing almost as hard as she. He didn't say anything to her, just pressed their foreheads together as if to tell her that they couldn't do this--at least not yet. Reluctantly, she let the passion between them die a slow death and returned to her room, disappointed in herself for not fulfilling the desires that were pulsing through her when she had the chance.   
Just thinking of their brief interlude was making her blood rush and her heart race in excitement.   
"Did you sleep with him?" A voice asked from behind her.  
Claire swiveled around in her seat to face Steve. "What?"  
Steve's face was set in a deep, dark frown. He was leaning against the wall, his arms folded in a hostile way in front of his chest. "Did you sleep with him?" He repeated. "Or would you understand it more if I asked, 'Did you fuck him?'"  
Closing her eyes in exhaustion, she shook her head and stood up. "Steve--"  
Without waiting for more, Steve reached out and grasped Claire's arm in his hand. His green eyes met hers forcefully and Claire felt the defensive little hairs on the back of her neck go up.   
"Steve, stop it--" She said, pulling away from him, but Steve only pulled her closer.  
"Did you," Steve said slowly, deliberately. "fuck him?"  
"NO!" Claire exclaimed loudly, ripping away from him.   
Steve was silent before he bit down on his lip and headed back for the room. The door slammed shut, making Claire grimace at the abruptness of it.   
Indignation flooded her veins and Claire threw up her hands in frustration. Where did Steve get off accusing her of sleeping with someone else when HE was doing the exact same thing. Never mind that she HAD come quite close to celebrating the moments of her life with Leon.   
A terrible wave of nausea overwhelmed her but she choked it down and laid herself on the couch. Her emotions were swirling around her, making her feel just awful. It was half an hour before Steve emerged from the bedroom, carrying his bag of clothes.  
"I'll be gone for at least a week." He said, without even looking her way. "Maybe two."  
"All right." Claire whispered softly.  
Steve left the apartment to load up his car, leaving Claire in the deafening silence. She closed her eyes so tightly she was sure they would be permanently closed.   
"He doesn't love you, you know." Steve's voice spoke up again.   
Claire opened her eyes to see him staring at her depreciatively.  
"He won't love you the way I do. He never will."   
Claire sniffed defiantly and sat up straight. "I'll consider that as a plus."  
Steve laughed. "No, what I MEANT was... he may like you but he isn't capable of actually, you know, loving you." Steve said as he sat down on the arm of the couch. His tone was simplistic, matter-of-fact.  
Maybe it was because of that that Claire said in rebellion, "I think you're wrong about that."  
Steve's face fell and became blank. "What?"  
"I think Leon is highly capable of loving me." Claire said slowly. "Otherwise he wouldn't have been such a wonderful lover last night."  
"But... but you said--"  
"I said that I didn't fuck him." Claire finished with a self-satisfied grin. "But I didn't say that HE didn't fuck me. He did."  
"He--"  
"He treated and made me feel the way you never could--" Claire rolled on, not caring if she was pushing him too far or what.  
They were now having a shouting match. Steve trying to be louder than Claire and Claire always rising an octave higher to reveal the terrible 'truth'.  
"I---" Steve stammered.  
"I don't remember if I ever screamed so loud--"  
"Shut-up."  
"I thoroughly enjoyed it." Claire finished, screaming over his protests.  
Steve's face was a terrible pink, slowly turning purple. Before Claire could feel sorry about her impulsiveness, Steve's hand flew for her cheek, knocking her off balance. Without hesitating, she came around and slapped him back.   
"Go to hell!" She screamed at him.  
Steve hit her again and sent her sprawling to the floor. Claire hit the ground hard and the next events went by in a slow, blurry daze. He kicked at her a few times then she felt his hands over her throat and her vision began to cloud. Squirming around, she kicked his groin as hard as she could, making him double over in pain. Pulling herself up, she started for the door, but Steve hooked her ankle around his and she fell forward, landing hard on her stomach, the wind getting knocked out of her.  
She cried out in pain and Steve seized her roughly by the shoulders. Then a different light came to his eyes and he gently kissed her forehead, eyes and neck.  
"Remember when I used to do this?" He asked as he kissed her passionately.  
Claire grimaced as his lips touched hers, her chest and stomach were hurting and she was having trouble breathing.  
"Steve, stop it." She said.   
"Didn't you want more attention?" He asked her. "Isn't that why you're acting so weird?"  
"Not like this." She replied, tears clouding her eyes. "Get away from me."  
Claire tried hard to fight him off but she was hurting too much and he was soon on top of her, unbuttoning her blouse. Perhaps it was all the stress and the pain that had been building up but she started to feel herself panicking. Around her, things started to blur and swirl and her head pounded. Inside her, her stomach churned making her insides swell up and start up her throat.   
"GET OFF OF MEEEEEE!!!!!!!" She screamed as loud as her diaphram would allow and she started to hit at him with her fists. Her head was shaking so hard that her tears were flying off her face and she felt her neck would snap any minute. She didn't know what kind of damage she was doing to Steve, but it must have been good because he backed off, cursing loudly and   
stumbling, clutching his groin in agony.   
The door closed behind him as he left but Claire's screams continued even though she felt she was ready to stop. Bile rose from her stomach and she began gagging. Pulling herself up, she ran to the bathroom. She didn't make it.   
"Ugh..." She groaned pathetically and started crying all over again. She was having an anxiety attack. She just knew it.   
"Claire?" She heard from behind her. "Oh..."  
She felt two strong arms lifting her up and holding her against him.   
"We've got to get you to the doctor." She heard Leon's voice saying. 


	10. Starting Over

Chapter Ten:  
  
  
Claire's throat was hoarse and dry when she awoke the next day. Before she could lift her head to look around, she immediately got winded. What had happened to her? She couldn't remember. Forcing herself up, she sat against her pillows, leaning her head on the mahogany headboard.   
She was surrounded by a Mediterranean palette—a sea of light greens, blues and yellows. It was very cherry, although a little bright when the sunlight filtered in through the yellow shag window curtains. Her palm went to her forehead and she ran it down her face to wake herself up (or to assure herself she wasn't dreaming).   
Ignoring her protesting body and it's pleas for more sleep, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, then   
instantly felt her legs give out from underneath her. A groan escaped her as she crumpled to the floor, landing hard on her knees  
and hands. Footsteps sounded in the hall and Leon appeared in the doorway, a fretful look on his features.   
"Claire!" He exclaimed, rushing over to help her up to her feet.  
"Leon," She said, clutching his shoulders and leaning against him for support. Mostly out of frustration, she blurted out, "What is WRONG with me?!"  
"Are you okay?" Leon asked as he set her back down on the bed.   
"Don't change the subject," She told him impatiently. "What happened?"  
Leon shook his head. "You were in the hospital last night."  
"What?" She asked. "Why?"  
"You had an anxiety attack." Leon quoted. "Mild--the doctors said it was. And I was starting to worry." He added as if to lighten her mood.  
She sat back heavily and sighed. At least she didn't have to remember that.   
"...you need to rest for a while." Leon finished and Claire realized that he must have been talking. He looked at her closely, his eyes probing in that way they were such an expert at. "Do you remember anything at all?"  
Claire took a deep breath and tried hard to think, straining to remember something. After a minute, she gave up and shook her head. "I don't remember anything after we came home from the club and my hand was bleeding."  
A disappointed frown replaced Leon's relieved look. "That's--that's it? Nothing else?"  
Claire thought again. Nothing. She shook her head.  
"Nothing at all?" He pressed her.  
"NO." She said, puckering her lower lip like she used to when she was a little girl.   
Giving up, Leon sat back in the armchair beside her bed. "Well, at least you remember who you are. It could've been worse--you could've forgotten everything."  
"I remember one thing." Claire corrected him bitterly. "And I wish I could've forgotten the last eight years."  
Stubbornly, she crossed her arms under her breasts. "Did he even care that I was hurting?"  
Leon looked down at his hands. "Steve... he--he wasn't there."  
A tear formed in Claire's eyes, it represented the last hope that she had in Steve. She hadn't known it was there, but as it fell down her cheek, she realized that it was truly over between them.   
Her instincts told her that Leon was about to touch her shoulder but she slapped his hand away. "Get away from me." She said just a tone away from hatred. "Just leave me alone."  
Leon shrank away from her, hurt in his eyes and expression. But Claire couldn't find it in her just then to dig up any remorse at the moment.  
Deciding it was better to humor her, Leon stood and headed for the door. Simutaneously, as he was leaving, Chris appeared. His expression changed from bewilderment as Leon greeted him in an overly civil voice to disquiet as he turned to face her. Then he became apprehensive when he saw her tears.  
"What happened?" He asked--no, demanded. Chris never asked.  
"He doesn't care..." She said, despondent.  
Confused, Chris looked in the direction that Leon had left in, then back to his little sister. "What do you mean? Leon cares. He was practically in a trance when I came to the hospital--"  
"Not him." Claire interrupted with a sigh. "HIM."  
"Claire." Chris said. That tone was dangerous. It was the Chris Redfield I-am-in-control-and-I-know-what's-best look. He started to say something, changed his mind, then started over--more gently this time. "Sis, listen... You've cried enough tears over him. Please, do yourself a favor--forget Steve."  
"I know." Claire said. "It's just hard. When I think of how it was in the beginning--"  
"That's in the past, Claire. A long time ago. He's changed--people change!" He raised his voice edgily.   
"I know that--don't you think I know that?" She asked. "I just wish that it didn't have to be that way."  
"Yeah, well, since when has wishing gotten anyone anywhere?" Chris asked. Once again a forceful statement, not a question.  
A silence followed and Claire welcomed it. She already hated talking to Chris about Steve. Finally, Chris regained his composure and said, "I didn't mean to get you upset. I just don't want to see you hurting--or anyone else hurting you. If you want my opinion--and you can take or leave it, it's your choice--but you're better without him. Stronger and better."  
Her reply was choked at first, but she managed to spit out, "It's been such a long time. I'm afraid of what I'll be without him."  
Hearing it out loud, hearing herself admit it, put a weird feeling in the pit of her stomach. But it also presented a bit of clarity when she thought about it over. It was what so many women said--women that were in her very position. Women who thought that it was all their fault. That they had deserved all they had got. But Claire knew that wasn't true for her. She knew all along that she hadn't deserved all that crap.  
"You'll still be the same person." Chris said, relieved that he seemed to be getting some progress with her. "Only happier."  
Will I really? She asked him silently, but not really saying it because it sounded pathetic. Instead, she looked around and sighed. "So this is the guestroom? The one Leon couldn't stay in?"  
Chris blushed. "Well, yeah. Rebecca and I needed some time to ourselves. We were supposed to go to her parents house today--to meet her family. There's... big news."  
"What kind of news?" She asked densely.  
Chris gave her a Look and she gasped. "You mean--? She's--? For real?"  
"Yes, for real." Chris said, running his hand through his gel-slicked hair. "I freaked too, when she told me."  
"That IS big news." Claire said. "If it provides any comfort--you'll be a great dad."  
"How do you know?" He asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but hoping the praise had validity.  
"Because...you took care of me when mom died." Claire said. "But that's probably a bad example, considering how I turned out."  
"You turned out fine." Chris snapped. "You were doing so well in your photography classes. You should keep it up. Your camera and other equipment is still up in the attic, you know."  
Claire looked out the window, not really wanting to touch the subject. Finally she looked back to him. "You need to go with Rebecca. And you'll be a great father."  
"I wouldn't feel right leaving you now." Chris argued.  
"Chris, there are things that you want to do, and things that you need to do." She told him. "And you really do need to do this."  
"Spare the lecture." Chris said.  
"I'll be fine. Being here will help me sort things out." Claire assured him. When she saw the skeptical look on Chris' face wasn't disappearing, she added, "I promise I will be okay."  
"And?" Chris pressed her.  
"And?" She repeated. "What's is 'and', exactly?"  
Chris stood, towering over her. "You won't go back to him, will you?"  
Claire shook her head. "No. I promise that I won't."  
"Now THIS is something that YOU need to do." Chris said, meaning to have some humor in it with cruel irony. But he said it seriously.   
"It's something that I want too." She replied honestly. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven:  
  
  
  
Releasing a sigh, Leon climbed off his motorcycle and up the steps of the lanai at the back of the house. The front of Chris' house had a perfectly nice vestibule, but for some reason, everyone felt compelled to enter the house from the back door. Pulling out the key that Chris had given him, he opened the door and stepped into the house. To his surprise, the light drone of the television set greeted him instead of the dead silence that had been his companion for the past two days. Heading for the living room, he saw Claire sitting on the couch, staring at a rerun of 'Gilligan's Island'. He said staring, because that was what she was doing. Her eyes were on the screen, but that was all. Her attention was obviously elsewhere.  
Clearing his throat loudly, he stepped forward and Claire turned her head.   
Her lips lifted into a tiny smile and she sat up a little straighter. "Hey."  
Leon was surprised at how fragile and delicate her voice sounded, as if her vocal cords were rare glass that would shatter if she spoke too loudly.   
"How are you?" he asked, sitting down beside her, but not too closely.  
"I'm okay. How long was I asleep?" she asked him, tucking her legs beneath her.  
"Two days." He supplied.  
"It feels like two years." Claire replied, she avoided his eyes as she started to flip the channels. "How was your day?"  
"All right. My boss is really impressed with all that I've done. All the people who half-assed it before I came along, are now vying for the chance to be employee of the month."  
"Leon the Motivator." Claire said, smiling a little wider now. "Maybe some of that determination will rub off on me."  
Leon took the remote from her when she landed on 'Whose Line is it Anyway?'.  
"You're plenty determined with or without me." Leon said.  
"Yeah...for lack of anything to do, I've slept for the past two days. Real determination." She sighed and Leon was shocked by her callous remark. "Wasn't I ever creative?"  
"Sure you were." He said. "You just need to start over."  
Nodding slightly, she stood up and headed back for the bedroom.  
"Going back to sleep?" he asked, wondering why she seemed so distant.  
"I have nothing better to do." Claire replied over her shoulder. "It's not like I'm missing anything."  
Her last comment made Leon freeze. This definitely was not Claire Redfield behavior. It could be some expected down time, though, so he decided to leave it alone and see how she progressed the next couple of days. He turned the TV off and stood up, he wasn't really in the mood for any comedy at the moment.   
  
Down time, Leon realized a few days later, was expected. Depression wasn't. It was one week later, and Claire still didn't seem to have made any real attempt at happiness. She slept most of the time, watched TV and had monosyllabic conversations with him five minutes out of the day. He was really beginning to get concerned.   
One day, after work, he called up the doctor that had seen Claire and asked if prolonged dejection was one of the side effects of the sedative that they had given her. Dr. Stadler had seemed surprised and said that there WAS some expected moodiness and apprehension, but nothing very severe, and it would only last three days--tops.   
"Do you have any idea of what went on prior to the attack?" Dr. Stadler had asked him over the phone.  
"No. I haven't been able to speak with her about that." Leon replied, then, thinking about Steve, replied, "She did seem to be under a lot of stress, though."  
"Maybe you should find out." He suggested. "Previous anxieties could have something to do with it."  
Now, he was cowering outside Claire's shut door, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. What was he supposed to do? Breeze in and demand that she speak to him? Knock and then trip over himself like some stupid little kid? Finally, he raised his hand to knock and after a few moments, "Come in." was the reply.  
Opening the door, he peeked into the room and found Claire sitting Indian style on the bed, in front of her was a large blue album and a camera.   
"Hello." He greeted with a smile.   
"Hello." Was the dismal reply.  
Not feeling discouraged, he sat down on the bed and glanced down. "What are these?"  
"Just pictures that I took for my photography classes." Claire replied, then she laughed and some brightness returned to her dark, gray eyes. "God, was I this sophomoric?"  
Leon shrugged, "They're great."  
"They're jejune." She declared passionately, but was pleased with his comment. "I was looking through the attic because I remembered I left some of my stuff here with Chris. I found a trunk full of cameras and tripods and unused film--I'd almost forgotten about them." she sighed and turned the page. "Hmm, look at Chris."  
Leon looked at the picture she was indicating and laughed out loud. "The Chris Redfield 'Ganster Pose'. Where is that at?"  
"The Winchester Mansion in San Jose." Claire replied. "That was just before we went in to take the tour. He was trying to act cool because there was this girl who was checking him out, but check out the picture below it."  
He checked it out and then laughed again.   
"He leaned too far over the railing and fell head first to the ground." Claire said, smiling.  
She handed the album to him and he began to look through all of the pages, admiring the sharpness of each picture. She really did have talent. The pictures she took were clear and in focus and breath-taking.   
"Claire, I have to say that these are truly and honestly great. You should take another shot at this photography thing." He told her.  
"Yeah, well, maybe..." Claire said, glancing at the camera in front of her as if she were afraid to touch it. "Do you think I was crazy?"  
"Huh?" Leon asked, looking up from a picture of the grand canyon at sunset.  
"Was I crazy for staying with Steve?" she repeated, looking directly at him.  
So much for trying to pry anything out of her.  
"I think you were a little... confused by what you wanted from yourself--but everyone makes mistakes." He said, wondering if that was a good thing to say.   
"But you never really see their mistakes, do you?" she asked curiously. "It seems like they're perfect."  
"Well, no one is, Claire."  
Claire was silent for a moment before she began to pick at the bedsheets.  
"I know that..." she closed her eyes tightly as if she were about to make some great, world-shattering confession. "...I was a virgin until I met Steve."  
Leon almost dropped the album but he quickly dove to catch it. "W-what?"  
"Steve was my first and only." Claire repeated, not really seeming as if she were there. "I was only twenty, I felt like I was such an adult...now, for some reason, I feel like I was just a baby..."  
"Twenty is far from being a baby, Claire." Leon said.  
"I know that." She replied with a sigh. "It's just that...I felt that I was waiting too long, but now...It's like I wasn't waiting long enough--I suddenly wish that I had waited even longer."  
Leon laughed softly. "God, Claire. What did you want to be--a nun?"  
"I wouldn't have qualified for sainthood." Claire replied with a wry smile. "No... I wasn't trying to be a nun... I just wish I could have held onto my self-respect just a little longer."  
Claire began to sniffle as tears fell from her eyes. "Look at me--I can't even touch my damn camera because I'm too afraid I've forgotten how to take pictures. I'm so stupid." She gripped her hair with her hands then immediately looked up, as if she just realized something. "I can't do it. I--I've been isolated from everything too long."  
"Look, don't say that." Leon said, becoming upset. "Stop saying that--you are NOT stupid, Claire. You are very intelligent and you can do anything you set your mind to. You just got to stop thinking negatively and start thinking like the old Claire Redfield. If you can't do that, you might as well just lay on the sidewalk--it's obvious that's where you want to be right now."  
Rewind! Leon thought frantically. He wanted to eat what he just said. He wanted to take all of those words back and stuff them in the back of his mind where they would disintigrate and never be seen or heard again. Claire looked as if she had just swallowed a fly and she stared at him with blank, hurt eyes. When she reverted her eyes to her hands, Leon began to apologize.  
"I'm sorry--"  
"No, no, you're right." Claire said, looking out the window. "You're absolutely, one-hundred percent right. I need to pull myself together." she sighed distraughtly and looked at him pleadingly. "But how can I do that?"  
Leon took her hand in his and smiled. "I'll help you."  
Claire smiled and actually managed a small laugh before their gazes locked. Leon's lips parted but he completely forgot what he was about to say. Claire seemed to be doing the same thing, her mouth opened and closed five times before she shook her head and broke their eye contact.  
"So, um, ahem." She cleared her throat, obviously trying to brush off their moment. She picked up the camera in front of her and raised it up. "Let's see if I still remember how this works..." 


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve:  
  
  
  
  
"Truss the WHAT?!" Leon said, staring at Claire as if she had just spoken in French.   
"I said, 'truss the duck'." Claire recurred patiently.   
"Okay, wait. Even if I knew what truss means—which I don't—I wouldn't do it to some poor dead duck." Leon said indignantly.  
Claire hid a smile and cleared her throat. "Truss—means to bind something so as to keep its shape. Like a turkey or chicken or in our situation—a duck. Get it?"  
"Got it." Leon said, looking a little foolish.  
"Good." Claire said and turned back to the recipe. "We just need to pop the duck into the oven and—"  
"Okay, why are we doing this again?" Leon asked, fumbling with a skewer he was trying to bind the duck's legs with.   
"Because, Chris and Rebecca are coming home tonight and I want to celebrate the addition to their family—plus I want to see if I still know how to cook complicated things."  
"Claire, you had trouble cooking simple things." Leon said grinning as the skewer slipped from his hands. "Remember spam? You could not cook it without burning it. Never. Not once."  
"Well, I don't like working with oil—besides it would always pop out at me."  
"That's because it sensed you were scared of it, Claire." Leon said, putting on a false façade of bravado. "You have to have--in the words of Mad-Eye Moody: Constant vigilance!"  
Claire snorted. "I see you're a Harry Potter fan."  
"I got the whole set of books for Christmas." Leon explained. "Want to see them?"  
"Um, maybe later." She said, returning to her book and furrowing her brow.   
"Hey, doesn't Chris have 'The Sorcerer's Stone' on DVD?" Leon asked, then without waiting for an answer wandered into the living room.   
"Constant vigilance," Claire muttered under her breath with a snort. "He's one to talk; he can't even skew a duck."  
But a small smile formed on her face. Maybe something about her ability to finally have a laid-back, meaningless conversation without a care in the world was relaxing to her. It was two weeks since she had come back to Chris' house and she was finally willing to let down her guard of paranoia. Her nightmares of Steve were decreasing, her mind was clearing and she was getting much more focused on getting back into the photography world.   
In the past few days, she had called different photographing companies and some seemed especially welcoming to take on a new employee. There was an opening for a photographer at chain stores like Calvin Klein, Ralph Lauren and a new child's clothing store called 'Kute Kids'. There was also a contest for best amateur photographer for a landscaping company and Claire seemed especially drawn to that one, although the Kute Kids option was intriguing…  
Suddenly, a blast of castle-in-the-sky music erupted in the living room. Leon had just turned on the Bose Surround Sound.   
"LEON!" She exclaimed, trying to sound firm even though her ears were pounding.   
"Yeeesss?" He asked, peeking out from around the corner.  
"Must it be so loud?"   
"It must if you want the movie experience." Leon said with a shrug.   
Claire was about to reply when the phone rang. Shaking her head and keeping her eye on Leon, she reached behind her and picked up the phone. "Hello?"  
There was silence on the other end.  
"Hello?" She tried again, wondering if this was a crank call.  
There was another long stretch of silence and Claire felt a cold shock sweep along her spine. "Hel—hello?" She asked again, her voice faltering. What if it was…?  
A look of concern crossed Leon's face and he headed for her. 'Give me the phone.' He mouthed.  
Before Claire could reach full panic mode, she heard Chris' voice.   
"Hello?" Chris said and a wave of warm relief poured over Claire's frozen insides.  
"Ch-Chris?" she said. "You ASSHOLE, what the HELL do you think you are doing—you nearly gave me a heart attack."  
"I know, I'm sorry." Chris said, sounding tired. "I just—something's happened here. I won't be able to come back tonight as planned."  
"What? Why?" Claire demanded as Leon started to look calm again.  
"Well, the visit was going really well, until Rebecca told her parents that she was pregnant. Her mother started to break down and her dad had a heart attack."  
"You're not serious." Claire declared.  
"Dead serious." Chris said. "We're here at the hospital right now. We've been here since this morning. We won't be able to make it back for a week—at the most two."  
"That long?" Claire asked. "But—I was planning on making duck a l' Orange to celebrate."  
"Does duck take well to freezing?" Chris asked, laughing, and stopping once he realized she was not amused. "Sorry, bad joke."  
Claire sighed and said that it was all right and just to make sure he took care of himself and not to worry. He apologized profusely but Claire assured him she'd been fine. When she hung up, she faced Leon, who was looking confused.  
"Bad news?" he asked.  
"Pretty much. Rebecca told her parents she was pregnant and they freaked." Claire said.  
Leon bit his lip and nodded. "So… pizza tonight?"  
In spite of everything, Claire had to laugh. "Why not?" she said, giving a shrug. "We can save the duck."  
  
  
Leon took another slice of pizza from the box and stuffed a big piece of it into his mouth. He glanced sideways at Claire, whose eyes were fixated on the TV, on which a cat was transforming into a woman. Her eyebrows lifted and he could tell she was impressed. When the pizza had arrived, they had settled on a couch to watch 'Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone' on DVD and Claire had sank into silence.   
He was worried that she would get worked up again by her brother's phone call, aside from his news of not coming home that night; the extensive pause in the beginning had seemed to scare her. She had thought it was Steve. Leon could see that. Her eyes had shrank until they were the size of a pea and her face had drained so quickly of it's color that she looked as if she were about to faint. Leon had immediately gotten defensive. If it was that little bastard that was calling he was going to hunt him down and…  
A hand on his should made him look to his right, to Claire was staring at him softly.   
"You look tense." She observed, sounding a lot like she had a week before. Vocal cords of glass.  
Leon shook his head. "Nah, just thinking."  
"Of?" She pressed, biting into a sausage and mushroom pizza.  
"Just…" Leon stretched this one syllable word as long as possible while he tried to come up with a believable excuse. "Of…of how much I don't like pepperoni—you want it?" he asked, picking off a pepperoni from his pizza and handed it to her.  
Claire smiled and leaned forward, opening her mouth and Leon slid the piece in, his fingertips brushing over her lips. His fingers drifted down to cup her chin and tilt her up just slightly. Her bright eyes flickered nervously and Leon felt a spasm somewhere in his lower region. Everything suddenly around him became quiet, even the Bose sound system seemed muted as his ears shut out everything but the beating of his heart.   
Fuck Steve. He could be in Bermuda for all Leon cared. Nothing could bother him now, not with Claire so close to him that there was barely room to breathe. Every fiber of his being wanted to kiss her, wanted to take her in his arms and hold her and protect her until the daylight came, during which he would repeat the entire process again.   
This moment lasted all but three seconds before Claire turned away and sat back in her seat, obviously trying to brush off their interlude as if it were a mere trifle. Leon sat back also, feeling like an idiot. Why why WHY did he have to do that?   
Neither of them said anything throughout the remainder of the movie and then decided to turn in. Leon finally closed himself in the den and sat on his cot before realizing that he forgot his old dog tags on the coffee table. He didn't need to necessarily carry it around everywhere, but he felt a weird sense of security when he felt the cool metal against his neck and chest. Getting back up, he returned to the living room and scooped his tags off the table then turned to head back to the den. Then a sudden tune invaded his ears. Music box dancer…  
Following the sound to the guest room, he saw Claire sitting in front of the vanity table, gently fingering the intricate design of the jewelry box that Leon had got her. She seemed in that same strange trance she had been when they had been at the dance club but less disturbed about things. She seemed almost on the verge of smiling.   
Before he could do anything that would make him even more of a fool, Leon turned and headed back for the den.   
  
  
  
Claire ran the brush through her soft brown hair and smiled at her reflection in the mirror. She felt herself flush as she remembered Leon's fingers on her chin and cheek. Warm and strangely familiar. Why had she stopped him? Why had she turned away when she had wanted it just as much as he seemed to.   
Her smile faded away when she thought of how Leon had looked when she sat back. Tense, annoyed. Maybe she had imagined it. Maybe he was just being friendly and was too much of a gentleman to tell her she was pushing her luck with him. She was such an idiot! Of course, Leon wouldn't tell her if she was offending him, if she was doing something wrong, he was too nice.  
And even if she was wrong, if Leon really had wanted her, how could she even think of allowing him? She couldn't use Leon like that. He was too good to get mixed up with a woman who was trying to get her life back together after eight years of messing it up? 


	13. Cameras and Microphones

Chapter Thirteen:  
  
  
  
  
Claire carefully clamped the forceps onto the edge of a newly developed picture and gently lifted it out of the pan to hang it up on the line she had attached from wall to wall. She examined it closely, pursing her lips in thought. It was a shot she had taken from the top of a hill: a thick grove of pine trees beneath a clear blue sky and a pasture of cows just beyond it. Maybe, it had potential, but it wasn't exactly moving. Neither were any of the others she had taken that day. Not to her, at least. Maybe a sunset. Maybe a mountain range. Maybe a sunset ON a mountain range.   
Nodding an agreement to no one in particular, she turned back to her old album and turned to the pages reserved especially for landscapes. She had a couple of shots of the ocean taken from the Golden Gate Bridge and an abundance of shots of the Grand Canyon at sunrise. If she took a trip to Reno, she'd get a couple of good shots of the Sierra Mountains.   
She had to shake her head; her mind was spinning in too many directions. Looking on the table beside her, she picked up her list of options again. Yesterday, she had gone to Kute Kids and met with the head of the photography department, a middle-aged woman named Carly Ribbons, who was especially enthusiastic when she heard Claire had taken a child psychology course in college and said it would be particularly helpful when she worked with the kids. Claire had filled out an application and given her a résumé on the spot, then met some of the children and took a few sample shots.  
And just an hour ago, she had met with the head of the Calvin Klein chain. That was a man in his mid-twenties who wasn't too pleasant and seemed to want more of her than her talents as a photographer. Before Claire became appalled enough to stomp out of his office, he told her to bring in a few pictures that agreed with the Calvin Klein image. So then WHY was she looking at pictures of mountains?  
Glancing down at the paper again, she remembered the contest for amateur landscape shot. Her head spinning around, she set down her list and headed up the basement steps. It was time to get away from her dark room and get some air and light.   
Filling a kettle with water from the tap, she set it on top of the stove to heat up and pulled out a big can of hot cocoa mix from the cabinet. After a couple of minutes, the kettle gave a loud whistle and she hurried to pull it away from the heat. Claire poured herself some cocoa and sat outside on the porch swing, sipping and staring down the empty driveway.   
Glancing to the side of the swing, she saw the second book of the Harry Potter series. Leon had given it to her to read, but she hadn't been able to. Picking it up, she opened it gingerly and started to read. 'The Chamber of Secrets' was pretty good, and she got to the tenth chapter before she heard the loud rumble of a motorcycle from the street.   
Peeking up, she saw Leon ride in on his Harley and set the book down, dog-earring the page where she had left off. She looked to the garage and stared dismally at the garage that held a Rav 4 that Rebecca drove and that Claire had been driving around all that day. She would have much rather be riding on a Harley than any car.   
Leon waved before disappearing into the garage that extended past the house so that she couldn't see him anymore.   
After a moment or so, the engine stopped and Leon walked up the walkway that led to where she was sitting on the large wraparound porch.   
"Hey." He said as he climbed the steps.  
"Hi." She greeted, trying desperately not to sound too eager. Ever since pizza night, Claire had been doing her best to keep neutral towards Leon and keep a sharp line between friendly and flirty.   
"How was work?" she asked as he sat down next to her, the smell of motor oil and shampoo filling her nose.   
"Tiring." Leon replied. "I suddenly don't like working in repairs. It seemed like the whole population of California blew their tires and the percentage that didn't got into accidents."  
"Aren't there other workers?" Claire asked as she sipped from her cup, which was lukewarm by now.  
"Of course there are." Leon said loftily. "But they seem to have an abundance of coffee breaks whenever there's a steady flow of cars coming in and none of them can work as fast as I can."  
Claire smiled. "Well, you seem to have an abundance of modesty when it comes to your work."  
"I can't help it if I took the machinery route in the Army." Leon said, puffing his chest out like a puffer fish and putting special emphasis on the word 'Army'.   
"That'll really come in handy if you ever get a tanker with a flat, won't it?" Claire asked sarcastically.  
Leon winced at the derision but quickly said, "Well, there was a Hummer that came in right after it trampled over a Miata."  
Claire raised an eyebrow. "There was damage to a Hummer?"  
Leon forced a haughty, know-it-all laugh. "Of course not, Claire. The Hummer only had to come in because the Miata was still stuck underneath it."  
At that, Claire had to laugh. "Aren't you the witty one?"  
Before Leon could reply, the phone rang from inside. Claire jumped a little, her heart suddenly racing. Was this supposed to be some kind of sign that she was crossing the 'sharp' line between friend and flirt?   
Or what if it was Chris calling to say that Rebecca's father had died and that he now had to help plan the funeral and wouldn't be back for another month. Or what if…what if it was Steve. She hadn't heard from him yet, but she was sure he was back and the thought of him being back in California scared her.   
Leon sensed the tension and got up. He opened the door and answered the phone.  
"Claire?" he called out to her. "You have a phone call."  
Standing up, she headed inside and saw Leon with a perplexed expression on his face.  
"It's some lady named Carly Ribbons?"  
"OH!" she exclaimed, grabbing the phone from him. "Hello? Ms. Ribbons?"  
"Hello? Is this Claire Redfield?"  
"Yes!" she said.  
"Yes, well, I'm calling about your application for Kute Kids?" Carly said.   
"Yes?" Claire pressed, twisting the phone cord around her wrist and biting her lip anxiously.  
"I didn't want to tell you this until we were completely sure, but when I showed the other directors the pictures you took of the kids they were very impressed." Cary went on.  
"Yes." Claire said, short of breath. Was it really possible?  
"And…as far as I can tell, you've just landed yourself a job." Carly said the hint of a smile in her voice.   
Claire froze. "Are you serious?"  
"Yes!" Carly exclaimed, laughing warmly, and then her tone lowered conspirationally. "They're a little concerned about your lack of experience—but that won't be a problem, will it?"  
"No!"  
"Thatta girl!" Carly said. "Is it possible for you to start the day after tomorrow?"  
"Yes!" Claire said, unable to hide her happiness and turning back to face a bewildered Leon.  
"Great, I'll see you there, sweetie." Carly said.  
"Thank you, good bye!" Claire said and let out an elated giggle as she hung up the phone. Maybe she wouldn't need Calvin Klein after all.  
"What's going on?" Leon asked, raising his eyebrows.  
Claire rushed on to tell him about her visit to Kute Kids that afternoon and Calvin Klein and then quickly told him that she got a job with the aforementioned.   
Leon's response?   
"YAHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" he hollered as he swept her up in an enormous bear hug and swung her around.   
"I'm so proud of you!" Leon exclaimed as he set her down. His face was split by a grin that lit up his eyes so brightly Claire couldn't do anything but stare.   
"Really?" she asked, allowing her hands to rest on his shoulders.  
"Definitely, you deserve this." Leon said, giving her another hug.   
Claire closed her eyes and breathed in. Peppermint…had she ever smelled it on him this strong? An image almost like a dream flashed before her eyes. Their arms locked around each other, kissing passionately. Suppressing a weak shiver, she pulled away and  
smiled neutrally.   
"We need to celebrate!" Leon declared. "What do you want to do? Anything?"  
"Anything?" Claire asked mischievously.  
"It's your call." Leon replied.  
  
  
  
"What's the matter?" Claire asked, laughing hard as she handed the microphone to Leon. "Don't you like to sing?"  
"Only in the shower." Leon said a little weakly as he took it. "Oh, just as a note: I fully intend to kill you when this is over."  
"I'm shaking." Claire said.  
"Yes, I can see that." Leon sneered playfully.   
"Ladies and Gentlemen, let's give a hand for—ur, what's your name?" the manager asked Leon.  
"Michael." Leon replied into the microphone, then added with a sideway grin to Claire, "Michael Jackson." There was a spout of laughter from the people around.  
The manager gave a laugh. "Well, Michael, have we got a song for you."  
He gestured to the screens all over the karaoke lounge which now showed the lyrics for 'Thriller Night'.   
Claire let out an unrestrained howl of laughter as Leon gave an unbelieving glance at the screen.  
"Go on!" the manager said encouraging.  
"I was just kidding—my name's really Tim!"  
"Tim McGraw?" Claire asked loudly, trying to make this as uncomfortable for Leon as possible.  
Leon glared at her and mouthed the words, 'You're dead!" then turned to the screen. When the words lit up, he started to sing. As it turned out, Leon didn't really have anything to worry about. He was—dare she say it?—fairly good. He had feeling, hit the right notes and pitches, but…he wasn't going to be winning any Grammy's anytime soon. When he hit the second chorus, he started to look a little more like the old Leon. He made up goofy faces and even did a few moves from the music video (which emitted screams of pleasure from a lot of women), concluding with a semi-brilliant imitation of the moonwalk.  
"Hey, Michael!" the manager said as Leon made a move to sit down. "Do you want a job?" Gesturing the lounge around him.  
Leon shook his head, grinning embarrassedly and taking compliments from the people around him.  
"How about a song for Janet here?" Leon said over the noise, indicating Claire.  
Claire shook her head vigorously.  
"Okay, for Faith then," Leon said as the disc operator switched to a Faith Hill song.   
'Wild One'.  
"Go on, Faith." Leon said, nudging her up and thrusting the microphone into her hand.  
Smiling weakly, she stood on shaky legs and immediately regretted forcing Leon into this. And there Leon was, grinning at her like an idiot. That grin was jeering her. Well, she'd show him. Holding her head up high in a false show of bravado and started singing.   
She didn't have any idea how she was doing, she was concentrating so very hard on the words and pitches, but the thunderous applause gave her a clue.  
"How about one more!" someone shouted, to which everyone agreed.  
Despite her declinations, Claire finally conceded when the screen displayed, 'It Matters To Me' another Faith Hill song. There was applause when she ended once again, only louder and countless eyes were full of tears of appreciation. Leon was looking a little awed himself.  
"You never told me you could sing so well." Leon whispered as the manager went off to pick his next victim.  
"I never knew." Claire said honestly, her heart still pounding but the adrenaline receding.  
"Well…" Leon said, his eyes full of admiration as he looked at her. "I…my hat is off."  
Claire smiled. "Thank you." 


	14. The Row

Chapter Fourteen:  
  
  
  
  
Claire fiddled with her camera patiently while she professionally ignored the uproar around her. Every inch of the playroom was a mess; scattered toys, torn pages out of half-finished coloring books and sticky table tops. Amazing how it only took ten minutes for it to get into this state of disorder.   
"Hey, Claire--look at me!" Little Tommy Higgins said as he tried (unsuccessfully) to juggle five little foam balls.  
On the other side of the room, the four girl models let out loud shrieks and leapt away from the table where they had been having a tea party.   
"Eeeewww!" they all screamed in unison as a large green frog hopped past them.  
"Jonathon Jacobs." Claire said warningly.  
"What?" A young black boy asked innocently. When Claire had first been introduced to the children, Jonathon was the one who stood out the most. He a very adorable eight-year-old boy--but was as distinguished as a President Denzel Washington. It didn't surprise her that he was a model for another store called, 'Rafiné Jeunesse'--sort of a Chanel for children and young adults.   
"Don't give me that innocent look, Jonathon." she said, but smiled in spite of herself. "Please take him outside, I promise you he'll be happier outside rather than cooped up in here."  
"He won't hurt anyone." Jonathon declared fondly as he watched the frog hop around. "He'll like living in my house--it's close to eight-thousand square feet--don't you think that will be enough space for him?"  
Claire smiled, "I'm sure he'd be well-exercised, but he's an outdoor animal."  
At that, Tommy lost control of all the balls and they flew out of his hands, ricocheting off the walls and bounced on Susie Parkin's head--messing up her perfect coif. As the two got into a heated argument, Curtis Shevel, who was riding an old-fashioned Radio Flyer tyke bike, veered sharply to avoid running over one of the stray balls--and instead squashed Jonathon's frog.   
"Eeeewww!" shrieked the girls again as an ugly sounding 'splat' filled the room.  
"Eeeeee!" shrieked Tommy and Curtis.  
"Aaahhh!" Jonathon screamed as if Jason himself had entered the room, carrying his trademark chainsaw and wearing an ugly hockey mask.  
"Somebody get some paper towels." Claire ordered, immediately jumping into damage control. But her cry fell upon deaf ears as the children crowded around the dead frog.  
Rolling her eyes, she hurried to the bathroom, grabbed the heavy duty paper towels, before returning to the scene. Poor Jonathon was crying his eyes out, and a guilty-looking Curtis was also starting to tear.  
"You! You killed Kenny!" Jonathon accused, sounding hurt and not at all as sophisticated as Claire had once thought. "You ba--"  
"Jonathon!" Claire said but was interrupted when Jonathon went on to say, 'bad person!', without even hearing her.   
"I didn't mean to!" Curtis said softly. "Honest!"  
"That's enough now." Claire said. "Break is over. Everybody go get dressed for the next shoot. Jonathon, Curtis, come with me."  
Despite her urge to hurl at the mere suggestion of picking up the frog, she scooped it up with about a hundred paper towels, keeping a disgusted grimace held in until the kids backs were turned. After working with the kids for nearly a week, she quickly found that there were a lot of things that she hadn't expected she had signed on for. And cleaning up frog guts was definitely one of them.   
Never-the-less, she placed Kenny at the base of a large Redwood tree and said a sweet little prayer, Curtis gave the eulogy while a grief-stricken Jonathon sang 'Swing Low, Sweet Chariot'. By the end of the spur of the moment funeral, both boys seemed less traumatized and were ready to get on with the next shoot.  
  
  
  
Claire laughed out loud as she picked up a picture she had taken that day. Alisha Clearwater and Janna Brady were each planting a kiss on Curtis' cheeks--poor Curtis' face was as red as his hair, but he seemed to handle it professionally until he got out of camera range. Another picture was of Jonathon and Bobby Chapman, sitting at a table, drinking hot cocoa and wearing ski parkas. It was too adorable for words.   
"Claire?" Carly called from the other side of the closed door.  
"Yes?" Claire asked, drying her hands and hurrying to open it.  
"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Carly demanded.  
Freezing uncertainly, Claire looked around and decided to be honest. "No."  
Carly's firm demeanor vanished as a soft laugh wrinkled the corners of her eyes. "It's nearly seven o' clock, honey, go home."  
Claire breathed a sigh of relief. "I was just about to leave."  
"Okay." Carly said. "Would you like me to wait for you?"  
"Oh, no, don't do that. I'll be fine--I can lock up." she said.   
"Well, okay." Carly said and waved good bye as she headed out.  
Taking Carly's advice, Claire packed up all her things and started out. Something on a table near the entrance caught her eye and she looked at it more closely. A fresh bouquet of roses was sitting on the table, Claire knew it hadn't been there before. Feeling curious, she walked toward it and took a peek at the note. 'Dear Claire,' it said simply. 'Please come home. I'm back.'  
The handwriting was obviously Steve's. Claire let out a strangled scream as she dropped the note and backed away from the flowers. She backed up so far that she bumped into the opposite wall. A petrified scream escaped her and she ran from the building, just managing to lock up the door. She half-walked, half-ran to Rebecca's car and then stopped dead in her tracks. On the hood of the Rav 4 was a single white rose. A wave of ice water swept up Claire's back and she could feel her panic rising. A strong breeze blew by, and the rose tipped over, spilling a thick red liquid over the hood.   
Two hands grabbed Claire's shoulders, swung her around and Claire found herself face-to-face with Steve.   
"Hi, beautiful." he said, smiling.  
Claire couldn't answer. Her throat was dry and her heart raced wildly. She couldn't even look him in the eye at the moment.   
'No no no.' she thought. 'This isn't happening! Why can't he just leave me alone?'  
"I've got to go, Steve." she said softly, wrenching away from his grasp.  
"Is that any way you talk to the man in your life?" Steve demanded as he blocked her way.   
"Steve, I have to go. Leave me alone." she said, sounding much more harsh than she had intended.  
Steve frowned. "Where are you off to?" he asked. His lips curled into a cruel smirk. "Oh, yeah. Your toy soldier: G.I. Leon."  
Claire froze. "What are you talking about?"  
"Come off of it." Steve snapped. "It's obvious the way you look at him. You do everything but foam at the mouth."  
"Leon and I..." she trailed of helplessly. "Leon and I...we're just friends!"  
"Yeah, just another of your 'special' friends in your life." He sniffed disdainfully. "I guess 'life' is good for him, huh?"  
"You always had a nasty, suspicious mind--don't do this right now." Claire spat. Her hand forced the key into the lock and she felt Steve wrap an arm around her and fling her to the side of the car.   
Feeling alarmed, she tried to struggle, but Steve had her pinned. He bent down and kissed greedily at her neck. Claire groaned in agony as Steve squeezed her breast and slid her hand under her blouse. She cried in pain as he pinched her nipple with the edges of his nails.   
Although she didn't want them to, tears formed in her eyes. Steve was too heavy, she couldn't push him away. She felt paralyzed and useless, like her limbs didn't want to function properly.   
"Help!" she managed to squeak but it didn't so much as echo in the vast parking lot.   
Then, to her horror, Steve pulled his pants down and did the same with hers. Claire squirmed even more, trying, fighting with every fiber of her being to fend him off.   
"Get off of me!" she shouted. "NO!"  
Steve didn't listen, he held her down forcefully and, so quickly she couldn't stop him, he entered her. Claire screamed so loud she was sure they could hear her in Timbuktu.   
"NO! PLEASE STOP! STOP IT, STOP IT STOP IT! PLEASE! NOOOOO!" Tears streamed down her face now and she was screaming with all her might. It was so painful she wanted to die.   
"NO!" she screamed one final time and her eyes shot open. She was lying in bed, tangled in the sheets, face streaked with tears.   
It took her a while to assure herself that it was only a dream. But it had been so real. Too real. It HAD been real a while ago, she supposed as she shivered alone in the dark. Steve hadn't been able to understand he'd been hurting her. Or he just hadn't wanted to. Claire felt sick, sick and alone.   
Sniffling softly, she left her room and sat on a couch in the living room. Hugging a large pillow to her chest, she sobbed into it, hot tears flowing down her face for the first time in nearly two weeks. Please, she begged silently, don't let this be a daily thing'. It just wasn't fair. Just when everything was starting to look up for her, she had to be reminded of the past. And it was the past, she didn't ever want to see Steve again.   
Feeling a hand on her back, she looked up and saw Leon standing over her.   
"What's the matter?" he asked, looking into her bloodshot eyes.  
Claire opened her mouth to tell him but the only thing that came out was an incoherent blubber as she felt tears in her eyes.   
"Steve was...and I tried...hic...hic...it hurt so much..." she tried to say but her throat was so constricted she couldn't get a word out.   
Leon seemed indecisive of what to do before he sat down next to her and gently stroked her back. To her credit, Claire tried to be tough, not to need someone to hold onto but she ended up falling into his arms anyway. Tear after tear fell until she was all cried out and her cheeks glistened.   
Gentle fingers wiped the skin under her eyes and cheekbones before cradling her jaw. Leon's body seemed to tense up for a full ten seconds before he gathered up all his courage and made his move. He raised her chin up and bent to kiss Claire full on the lips.  
Claire gasped as Leon's lips moved over her own, his hands stroking and twirling her hair. Her body became weak and she melted into his arms, content to be held now. Her mind slowly worked back, with every kiss and every caress she saw more. It was like a flash light shining into a dark corner. She saw Leon cleaning her hand, giving her the jewelry box and finally, the two of them locked in a hot embrace.  
Leon's tongue worked into her mouth and tested the area. Claire eagerly met him and the heat between them intensified. Then Leon reached underneath her night shirt and she felt his rough hands on her inner thigh. She gasped as he moved up and an image of Steve appeared in her mind.  
Trying hard, she forced herself to block him out by concentrating with all her might on Leon, but the more she did that, the more vivid Steve's face became, she could even begin to hear his voice.   
'How could you let him touch you?'   
'You think being with him will be less painful--it won't.'  
Claire winced as Leon's other hand worked her right nipple.  
'He won't be able to save you--you belong to ME. I'll never leave. YOU'LL never leave...you'll never leave...'  
That last sentence echoed in her mind over and over again, like a cruel chant, her final destination. Leon's kisses went down to her neck, his lips gentle but urgent but all Claire could feel was Steve's hands, Steve's lips; roving her body and forcing her down.  
Something like panic punched her stomach and she shoved Leon away. Although Claire was shaking violently, she hardly realized it as she pulled herself up and hugged her middle.   
"Claire?" Leon asked, breathless and questioning.  
His hand touched her shoulder and Claire squirmed away, wincing her eyes shut.   
"Don't touch me, please." she whispered so softly that she had to repeat herself when Leon didn't hear.   
"Why?" Leon asked, trying not to make the disappointment in his voice obvious.  
"Because..." she trailed off helplessly. "I can't stand it. I keep seeing him."  
When she said 'him' Leon scooted slightly, as if the very thought disgusted him and he wanted to get away. Claire dared to look up to him and his expression was even worse. His eyes were wide and his face was a deathly pale. He looked as if he were fighting off a howl of protest and accusation. As if he didn't believe she was being truthful.  
"What--what do you mean?" he asked, his voice breaking although it was deep and controlled.  
"When...when you touch me...it's not you touching me--it's Steve." Claire said softly. "I don't want it to be...but..."  
She didn't know what else to say but she wished she did. The pain in Leon's eyes was almost unbearable and it pierced her heart almost as much as it was piercing his.   
Leon took a big swallow and inhaled before bringing his forehead to his palms. Claire remembered that pose, Leon's thinking pose. She'd just never seen it look this intense. It was like seeing a huge internal struggle on the outside. He looked like he wanted to get angry, but was holding it back. He looked like he wanted to cry, but was holding it in. He looked like wanted to hit something, anything but he couldn't.  
Finally, he looked back up. "Well...I--I'm sorry you feel that way."  
"I'm sorry too--" she began but Leon held up a hand.  
"But--" he said. "But, Claire, I'm NOT him. I'm NOT Steve, I'm Leon. Leon Kennedy and I would never--NEVER do anything remotely close to what that...that..." he groaned in frustration. "There's not a curse word strong enough for what he is but...the point is I care about you. Really really care about you and it hurts me to think that you'd think I'm like him."  
"I didn't say that!" Claire protested.  
"Then what did you say?" Leon demanded.  
"I just said that..." Claire began defiantly but even as the words formed in her mind she realized they weren't too flattering. Leon knew what was coming, what she was going to say but the bastard was going to let her say it. "I...said that I feel Steve when you touch me..." she whispered.   
"And I'll bet you see him when you look at me." he said.  
"That's not true!" Claire said.  
"But it wouldn't matter even if we were twins. Even twins are different, how I interpret this is that you can't tell the difference between him and me." Leon was teetering on the edge of anger now, he was sounding bitter.   
"That...that's not true." Claire repeated, only weaker.  
"Yes it is." Leon said. "You know it and I know it, the only difference is that you don't want to admit it."  
Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me... Claire immediately thought of the popular old saying and what a lie it all was. 


	15. Enough

Chapter Fifteen:  
  
  
  
  
"Hey, Claire, look! I'm going to fly off the roof!" Bobby shouted joyfully as he skipped past her.   
"Great." Claire said absently as she repeatedly loaded and unloaded her camera with film.   
"Not until I finish your make up!" The make up artist, Tina, screeched running after Bobby and glaring at Claire. For having encouraged him, was her guess.  
Claire hadn't been herself at all that morning. She was sure it was affecting her work, because she had tried to set up the tripod when she realized she was clutching the coat rack. She had made sure to pay a little more attention to detail after that, but even the kids realized how out whack that day because for most of the morning, they tip-toed around her quietly and whispered when they spoke. Bobby, who was the youngest in the group, was the only one who didn't notice anything beyond toys and outdoors.  
Setting up her camera, she grimaced inwardly as she recalled the previous night. How could she have done that to Leon? She groaned loudly as she saw Leon's hurt expression and disgust even though he tried vainly to hide it. She would be sick too, if it had been the other way around. Claire had returned to her bed that night, but that didn't mean she had slept, she stayed awake for a good hour, thinking about how Leon must have hated her right then. How would she face him in the morning?   
As it turned out, Leon, ever the gentleman, had been civil and tried to make polite (although forced) conversation. And that only made Claire feel even more like a rotten person. Leon, unlike her, was able to rise to the occasion when she had fallen. And what pissed her off even more, was that she wanted that kiss as much as he had, but she had chickened out. She had let Steve control her again and he wasn't even there. Feeling dismayed, she wondered whether she would ever be truly free of all the static. Leon had to have been the strongest person she knew aside from Chris, yet he hadn't been able to free her from the past.   
Steve's face appeared in her mind and she sat down hard on the ground, her hands wrapped around her knees. Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes. Not now. She willed them as she stood and hurried for the bathroom. Her stomach felt testy as she slammed herself in and keeled over the toilet, releasing her toast and orange juice from that morning. Her retching echoed against the walls and alternated with gut-wrenching sobs. She wanted to die. She wanted to crawl under the sink and just die. Right now, that seemed like the only escape. It would've have been so easy to stick her head under a faucet or her finger in an outlet or something else that would...  
Knock knock knock. Three soft knocks on the door interrupting her death wishing and she gagged helplessly over the bowl. "Claire?" Carly's voice spoke through the door.   
Wincing slightly, Claire rested her head on the seat and sighed but couldn't answer or move. After fifteen seconds of silence, the door opened and Carly walked in. Feeling foolish, Claire made a move to get up, but instead, Carly knelt down beside her.   
"I--I'm sorry." Claire blubbered into the toilet.  
"Shhh." Carly said, patting her back comfortingly. "Just get it all out."  
Another hurl of toast might not have been exactly what Carly meant, but she smiled gently and slicked back Claire's bangs from her eyes. As soon as Claire had stopped crying, she handed her some towels. "What's wrong? And don't tell me nothing." she added quickly. "Because when a woman cries and vomits, it isn't because she's happy." Her eyes examined her closely. "Are you pregnant?"  
Claire felt paralyzed then relaxed. "No. I had my period last week."  
"Oh." Carly said, looking relieved. "So that singles out PMS, too."  
Claire nodded.   
"So, then, what is it, sweetheart?" She asked in that wonderfully maternal voice she had.   
Claire wanted to melt into the tiles of the floor but she didn't have any choice. She took a deep breath and began telling her story to this woman who was little more than a stranger to her. But for some reason, Claire trusted her. She was like the mother that Claire had lost, that Claire had missed so much. And she seemed to understand what Claire had been going through. She didn't question or judge, just let Claire talk and cry into the shoulder of her expensive Dior outfit.   
"I want him to be gone--but he's always going to be there. He WON'T GO AWAY." She sobbed loudly. "I feel like tearing myself into two pieces and sending one over a cliff and the other straight to HELL!"  
Carly didn't seem fazed or surprised by the ferocity of Claire's words, in fact, she looked almost nonchalant.   
"I understand how it feels." Carly told her as she patted her head gently. "You feel like you'll never get back on your feet again, even after all the damage is said and done. Everything is hard, going out into the world, getting a job...finding new love."  
Claire looked up sharply. "You talk like you've gone through this."  
Carly smiled a bit more solemnly. "Because I have gone through it. I've been exactly where you're in now."  
A single tear fell down Claire's cheek. "So you do understand."  
"It was a living hell." Carly told her. "He blamed me for everything. Everything I did was wrong. If I said or did something he even imagined embarrassed him, the moment we got home I was in for it. My husband was a very important man, he even once ran for governor of California. When he lost, he was sure it was because of his 'marriage venture'. He actually used that phrase."  
"How long were you with him?" Claire asked softly.  
"Too damn long." Carly replied. "Thirty-five years. You're lucky you got out when you did."  
Claire looked up and saw, for the first time, that Carly looked much older than she'd originally thought.   
"Why did YOU stay with him?" Claire asked.   
"I thought I was still in love with him for the longest time. And by the time I realized I wasn't, we had three kids and his political career was off the ground. He couldn't tolerate a divorce just then. I was 51 before he passed away and I was really free." she paused, choosing her words carefully. "I remember how very hard it was. My children encouraged me to start dating, even though the thought of a woman as old as me dating was hysterical. Every man I met got frustrated because I couldn't help comparing them to my late husband."  
Claire closed her eyes tightly as she hugged Carly like a life preserver. "Didn't you ever find someone who you thought you could love--who could love you?" She sounded like a hopeful little girl asking a question even though the answer was right in front of her.   
Carly took a deep breath, "There was...one man...he was different from my husband in every way. Gentle, kind, strong...and he respected me for who and what I was...I remember he was very supportive of me when I said I wanted to make a photography company."  
Claire was instantly reminded of Leon. Almost afraid to ask, she went on, "What--what happened?"  
Carly laughed a deep, unhappy laugh, full of regret. "I blew it. He tried to hold out for me for as long as he could, but he couldn't take all the references I made to my husband and my disbelief to believe that he truly cared. Pride is a sin, Claire, try not to make it amount to too much." Then, after some thought, Carly went on. "He loved me, but I could never believe it. I could never let go. And because of that, I couldn't let him touch me. Men can't take rejection as gracefully as women can, honey. They may be stronger than us in some aspects, but they're only human, too."  
Almost as if Carly had reached into Claire's brain and flipped on a light switch, Claire understood. She couldn't wait around for someone to save her from falling. She'd have to do it herself. Leon had helped her out far more than Carly's boyfriends had and she couldn't let herself make the same mistake her boss had. Eight years of mistakes had to have taught her something and that included getting out of one.  
  
  
"Leon, you're working too hard." Dave Lennon declared as he and three other guys headed out of the garage. "Why don't you come with us to lunch?"  
Leon groaned as a spurt of motor oil sprayed his arm. "Uh, no thanks. I'm just going to finish up here. Thanks anyway."  
Dave shrugged, "All right. Oh, and Kennedy, if you ever want to run for sainthood, our supervisor will vouch for you."  
Leon forced a laugh. "Yeah, thanks. I'll keep that in mind."  
Dave gave a friendly wave before heading off.  
Sainthood. Figured. Everyone saw him as the good guy. Maybe that's why Claire had done that to him. Turned him away so many times. Maybe what she was after was a bad boy...she had chosen Steve once, hadn't she? Finishing up with the Ferrari's engine, he wiped his hands on a grimy towel before slamming the hood of the car down.   
"Anyone who still cares about his job in here?" A voice called from the side.   
Leon turned to see his supervisor Keith Harper standing in the doorway.  
"Ah! Leon! My boy!" He looked thoroughly happy to see him. "I swear if this place were a family, you'd be my favorite child."  
"From who?" Leon asked looking around skeptically. "You're fourth or fifth wife?"  
"I know, it's impossible for you and the rest of the guys to be blood siblings." Keith said. "Anyway, if you're up to it, there's a BMW convertible coming in with a blown tire and totally damaged rim--not too bad."  
Leon clapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously. "Bring it on."  
"That's the spirit!" He said, obviously relieved.  
Keith turned away then immediately swung back. "Word of advise, when they bring the car around, try not to let the owners get to you. Very demanding people they are. I spent fifteen minutes telling them our policy for checks."  
Leon grinned. "I think I can handle it."  
Two minutes later, a loud scraping sound reached his ears and he put on a false smile, as the annoying grinding got closer. Be nice, be nice, be nice. He thought, remembering Keith's words. Be nice, be nice, be nic... his thoughts trailed off and his smile disappeared from sight when he saw who was riding in the car.   
"Stevie, baby, the car isn't that bad is it?" a girl asked from the passenger's seat. "We're going to miss the movie."  
"What do you expect us to do? Ride on a blown tire? You do that, and you damage the rest of the car."   
The door opened and Steve Burnside stepped out. Leon froze as ice swept over him. Steve dusted his pants off and looked up. A nasty, arrogant expression appeared on his face.  
"Well, well, well." Steve said haughtily. "Leon..."  
"Steve." Leon said, his body numbing as his cheeks burned and his eyes glowed a deep red.  
"You know him?" the girl asked, her eyes brightening with interest, but both men ignored her.  
"We've met." Steve said. "Babe, why don't you go and wait in the lobby--it's air conditioned."  
Looking grateful, the girl got out and walked showily to the lobby, her hips swinging from side to side, her head held up high.  
Leon just barely managed not to roll his eyes. "Friend of yours?" he asked neutrally, a lock of his hair falling over his eye so that he looked scrutinizing at Steve.  
"A good friend." Steve replied as Leon lifted the car onto the power ramp. "A very good friend."  
"Oh, I can see that." Leon said icily.  
It was amazing how hostility could mount with the least of words. Leon concentrated hard on repairing what he could on fixing the tire, gripping all his tools much harder than necessarily and absently wondered why he wasn't gripping Steve's neck the same way. He was aware of Steve's glare on him as the bastard leaned against the wall, yawning on occasion with boredom. When he was half way done, his hands betrayed him and he dropped the tire. He heard Steve laugh, unrestrained and mocking. Ignoring him, Leon returned to his work and finished it up with out another word.  
"Pay at the front." He said as he lowered the car.  
Steve tossed the keys up and caught them as he stepped forward. "Thanks."   
Leon bit his tongue as Steve gave him a condescending smile and turned around. Leon headed for the office to slam his head into the wall for not keeping true to his word of putting the hurt on Steve when he had the chance.   
"Oh by the way," Steve said before Leon left. Leon paused before turning around. "How IS Claire?" He said with a nonchalant tone as if they were talking about nothing more than the weather.  
Leon inhaled deeply. "She's fine."  
"That's good." Steve said, his she seemed a little sick the last time I saw her. Tell me," He said in an aggravating sneer. "Was she alright?"  
Something inside Leon snapped like a rubber band and he sent his hard fist sailing across Steve's face, cracking his jaw. The blow had caused Steve to fall against the wall, clutching his cheek with his hand. Leon's nostrils flared in anger as he hit Steve over and over again, each blow never as satisfying as the next. Steve did find his senses and put up a fight, but Leon's fury was too strong that he was almost immune to the punches Steve dished out.   
When he felt his fists weren't doing enough, he grabbed a whole box of tools and flung it at Steve. But his conscience was probably starting to kick in, because his hands veered to his left and it only just brushed against Steve's head.   
Steve stumbled up, clutching the wall for support, his eye was blackened, his cheek was bruised and his lip was bleeding. His body was shaking as if it would collapse any second, but he made a brave show to stand up straight.   
"What's wrong with you?" Steve asked. "A little lost without a gun to help you out?"  
Leon lunged for Steve and grabbed the younger man by the shirt collar, lifting him up off the ground.   
"I would LOVE to kill you right now." Leon growled lividly.   
"Well, go ahead, I'm ready." Steve said coolly, despite the nervousness in his eyes. "I've had CLAIRE for eight years, remember? I can die happy."  
Leon wanted to crush him, he was about to, but it was as if his hands were betraying him again. He forced his conscience out of the way to deliver one last almighty blow to Steve's face, which caused his nose to bleed.  
"Get out." Leon said, giving him a short and simple ultimatum instead. 


	16. Chaper Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen:  
  
WARNING: Romantic swill ahead. If that's A-OK with you, proceed. Do not surpass 75 mph, I am not responsible if you get whiplash. :) :) :) Don't laugh, I was having a romantic movie marathon while writing this.   
  
  
Leon squinted as he looked out over the hills, the rain drenching him to the bone and blocking his vision so that he could barely see two feet in front of his face. It was a few hours after the confrontation with Steve and in that time he had managed to drive as far as a quarter tank of gas would allow. The drive had been refreshing and the rain was now beating down on him hard, but he was still bristling from all that had happened. He saw now that maybe he should have killed Steve when he had the chance…  
After he had pounded Steve's face in, the little shit had gone into the main office and made a scene. He said Leon had flown into an angry rage and took it out on the first available person that came along. As lame as his story was, evidence was in his favor. He was bloodied up really bad and Leon was the only person who could have done it. Keith Harper had looked at Leon with a shocked expression and had stammered when he asked him to join him in the office (after letting Steve go, free of charge and promising a lifetime of free service).   
Leon's heart was pounding and his breakfast was swirling in his stomach as he sat down in the black leather chair. When prodded repeatedly for an explanation, Leon hesitated. If he told about Steve, he'd have to explain about Claire, and that was none of Harper's damn business. He wasn't going to use Claire like that; her honor meant much more to him than his job.  
When Leon didn't volunteer any elucidation for his actions, Keith sighed.  
"Well, uh, Leon…it's obvious that you—you're under a lot of stress around here…" he struggled, trying to find the right words. "Take a break for a while—we'll call you."  
That 'we'll call you' sounded an awful lot like 'good bye', but it was one of the nicest ways Leon had ever been laid off of a job. In a surreal way.  
What a day. He'd gotten rejected, gotten revenge and lost his job—life was full of shit. Feeling a lot like it, he mounted his motorcycle and started off just as a clap of thunder sounded. He rode seven miles in the pouring rain and slippery road with old ladies in 4X4s flicking him off with their nine-year-old grandchildren writing cuss words on the steaming windows at him. Okay, so he was being dramatic, but it was a thought that crossed his mind and made him smile in spite of himself. An eight-five miles per hour pen pal…  
He finally reached Chris' subdivision and turned into Tesoro Circle, where his house was stood. Parking in the free-standing garage, he noticed that Claire was already home, the living room was brightly lit and had a warm glow to it. His feet were anxious to get inside, out of the freezing rain and into the warm heated house, but his mind and heart hesitated. Was he really ready to face Claire just yet?   
After five minutes of standing in the rain like an idiot, he threw his pride away and stomped up the porch. Opening the door, he stepped inside and was greeted by the promised heat and the smell of something delicious in the kitchen. Taking his jacket and boots off, he put them on the side and tried to shake some of the water off, even though he was hopelessly sodden.  
"Leon?" Claire called from the hallway.  
"Uh, yeah?" he asked, managing to wring out a few droplets from his hair. Futile.  
"Great, I'm glad you're here, because I rented…" she rounded the corner and trailed off when she saw him. "…John Q…but I guess you're a little tired of watching movies, huh?"  
Leon shook his head, spraying her with some water which she playfully swiped away. "No, not at all. Movies are great."  
He was surprised to see how relaxed she looked; there was a bounce in her step, a pink tinge to her cheeks and her eyes were lit by a harmony he hadn't seen in a while. The lighting must be playing tricks on his eyes…  
"You look awful." She declared. "What happened?"  
Leon looked down at his wet clothes then back up at her with an are-you-kidding expression. "Isn't it obvious?" he then added slyly. "I went chubby-dipping—it's kind of like skinny-dipping, only you leave your clothes on."  
Claire laughed, not amused. "You're a real comedian, I mean these." She said, brushing his cheek and eye. To his surprise, he shrunk back as it stung faintly. "You're a little bruised."  
Stepping back, she put the crook of her index finger between her teeth and looked thoughtful. Finally she said, "Go and get undressed. I'll draw you a nice hot bath so you can warm up and then get you some ice for your face." She was silent and Leon waited for her to say more, but she was apparently finished because she barked, "Do you want to get sick? Chop chop!"   
Giving a slight jump, he hurried to drop his clothes in the laundry room, then, wrapping himself in a towel, he went to the bathroom where Claire was waiting, sitting at the edge of a tub full of hot, steaming bubbles. The faint smell of pine or something drifted into his nostrils.  
"Claire," he whined, not realizing he took a step back. "Do I have to? Okay, I'm a little bruised—that doesn't mean I need to get the spa treatment." His words became more and more jumpy as Claire tested the water, ignoring every word he said.  
"Trust me," she said, seeing the skeptical look on his face. "This aroma therapy will make you feel better than the bath alone."  
"No." he said, shaking his head and turning around. "No, I'm good—really."  
  
  
"I don't see what the big deal was." Claire said, taking the ice pack away from Leon's face then reapplying it. "You feel better, don't you?"  
Leon pressed his lips together and looked to his extreme right. "Yeah, it was okay. I'm just gonna have to smell like a cardboard air freshener until morning—but hey, yeah, I feel better." Leon said, raising hands in surrender.  
"You do NOT smell like an air freshener." Claire exclaimed. "That's the most masculine bath powder they have."  
"Who has?" Leon asked, looking at her seriously.  
Claire opened her mouth to reply but even before the word formed in her mind, she knew it sounded stupid. "Rebecca."  
"Exactly. Well, that makes me feel LOADS more comfortable."  
Claire sighed and propped her jaw in her palm, resting her elbow on her lap. She had been too concerned on helping Leon when he first arrived to notice or ask, but now that she was looking at him she began to wonder. "Leon, how did you get those shiners?"  
Leon faced her squarely for all of two seconds before he looked down at his hands. "I fell—I bumped into a door at work."  
"No, you didn't." Claire said, frowning suddenly.  
"Yes, I did." He replied.  
"No, you DIDN'T." Claire insisted, pulling her legs up underneath her.  
"Yes, I DID." Leon said firmly. "It was an accident. It could've happened to anybody."  
Claire tried to laugh but it was more of an exhausted type of chuckle. "Do you really think you can lie to me, Leon?" she asked him softly. "Me? Of all people? I've used that excuse at least a hundred times."  
When Leon didn't look or answer her, she moved closer and placed a knowing hand on his shoulder. "Those bruises come from people hitting you, not from bumping into wooden doors."  
"It was steel." Leon said tightly, for all that it matter because he knew Claire was on to him and he faltered even as he tried to rationalize. "It was hard and closed and bumping into doors hurt no matter what you think…."  
"Just TELL me." She told him steadfastly. Leon looked as if just forming the words in his mind were painful.  
"Well, um, I ran into someone today." Leon said neutrally.  
"Uh-huh, and?" she pressed.  
"It was Steve." Leon said, forcing himself up in order to avoid looking at her.  
At the mention of his name, Claire cringed and a sudden fury swept up inside her.  
"STEVE?! What did he do to you, Leon? What the HELL did he do to you?" she cried, flying up and grabbing Leon's shoulders, shaking him hard.  
"Claire, Claire, Claire!" Leon spoke over her hysterics. "He didn't do anything, I started the fight."  
Claire backed away from him, her arms dropping to her sides, her face blank and devoid of feeling.  
Swallowing hard, her hand at the base of her neck, she said, "Who—who finished it?"  
"What?" Leon asked.  
"Who won?" Claire said, exasperatedly.   
"Oh." Leon said. "Well, me, as far as I could—"  
Leon would have said more but at that very moment, Claire jumped up and wrapped her arms around him so tightly he could barely breathe.  
"You did that?" Claire whispered, closing her eyes and holding him tighter.  
Leon couldn't speak at the moment; he muttered a vague, 'mhmm' and slowly stroked her hair. Claire inhaled and breathed in the smell of cedar and pine that hung heavily on him. Looking back up at Leon with an awed kind of wonder in her bright eyes she smiled.  
"Thank you." She said.  
Before she could bring herself to do anymore, a particularly loud clap of thunder shook the house and Claire instinctively grabbed Leon so close that there was barely any room for their clothes between them. "Hold me tighter." She said her voice unable to differentiate between a command or request.  
Taking a deep breath, Leon rested his strong chin on the top of her rich red-brown hair and increased his hold considerably, scared to believe that this was all happening, but happy that it was.   
"I'm sorry about last night." She told him quietly. "I didn't mean to insult or hurt you. I just was so scared that I didn't know what to d—"  
"Shhhh…" Leon said, pressing his finger to her lips. "It's okay."  
He tilted her chin up to look at him and traced her bottom lip with his thumb. "That was no way to go about it…it was too fast. Fast is good for some people but you," he said, his voice deepening as he leaned closer to her, aware that everything that poured out of his mouth was sounding like a romance novel but also aware that he meant every word of it. "You, Claire Redfield, are special."  
"I'm no more special than the next girl." Claire replied, embarrassed by what he was saying but enjoying every second of it. "I don't need any…"  
"I'll tell you what you need," Leon said seriously as he bent lower. "You need someone who will be patient, gentle…who'll tease and kiss you until you're driven into a heated frenzy…"  
"And?" she pressed breathlessly, closing her eyes and waiting for the feel of his lips on hers.  
"And then show you passion beyond your wildest dreams." He said, his lips speaking against hers now, just brushing the surface.  
Claire swooned breathlessly and almost fell to the floor if Leon had not been there to catch her. Clinging to him, she pressed her mouth to his earlobe, "Don't be so sure you'll be the only one satisfied after this—I've learned a few things."  
"Well then," he said, looking impassive, but dying inside. "Teach me." 


	17. Release

Chapter Seventeen:  
  
  
  
Claire glanced clandestinely at Leon, her throat dry and hollow. Her mind was a mess too, she didn't think she could say one coherent sentence even if she could think of it. Leon seemed to walk with an assurance in his step as he more or less led her to her room and closed the door. But, then again, Leon didn't have any reason to have the inhibitions Claire was having. He probably didn't need to worry about hearing Steve's voice while kissing her. That was one thing that was going through her mind and making her rather chary as she sat down beside Leon on the bed.  
She couldn't believe she was thinking this now. Just seconds before she had been more than ready to jump into bed with Leon, but now that it was about to happen, she lost nearly all the confidence she had gained.   
"Are you alright?" he asked.  
After a few moments, Claire nodded. "I'm fine." She managed to say and even returned a kiss Leon gave her.  
RELAX! she scolded herself. Just BREATHE. And for God's sake LOOK AT HIM!  
Following her own orders, she looked up at Leon who was smiling weakly at her. Why am I so afraid of him? she thought. Why can't I do this?   
"Claire..." he began, his hands caressing her waist. "Look, we don't need to do this if you don't want to--"  
"NO!" she interjected just a little too loudly. "I mean, no..."  
Ready or not, she just couldn't stop now. She needed this.   
"Are you sure? Because I won't allow you to kiss me unless you really really mean it." Leon said, trying to joke but failing at it.  
A light laugh escaped her, loosening her up so she could finally think of something to say.   
Leon reached around and pulled her closer so that she was arching against him. Instinctively, Claire's eyes closed and she allowed Leon to part her lips with his tongue. Lying down on her back, she fiddled blindly with Leon's zipper and finally got it down. Parting only temporarily, Leon undid the button of his pants and squirmed out of them so fast that Claire felt compelled to laugh. The impulse lasted all of two seconds until Leon looked back up at her, the arousal in his eyes so intense she almost looked away.   
Scootting herself up against her headboard, she watched as Leon unbuttoned her red cotton blouse and then fingered the lace at her bosom. Swiveling her hips slightly, she swing her legs over the side of the bed and kicked off the slippers she had been wearing then returned to her original position beneath Leon.   
Holding her gaze, Leon supported her with one hand while he used the other to draw an imaginary line down her bare navel and then tickle her belly button.   
"Leon!" she cried, recoiling and doubling over to hide her stomach or any other part of her that was sensitive to tickles.   
A deep chuckle emerged from Leon's throat that told her that he enjoyed torturing her so but he apologetically placed his flat palm at the base of her jeans, then unsnapped the button and separated the zipper.   
Sitting back, he tugged roughly at the material until he had pulled it from her body, revealing her smooth, shapely legs. Claire threw her blouse over the side of a chair and sat up, pulling her legs together at the same time and coyly pulled her hair aside, silently commanding him to take her bra off.  
Wasting no time in obeying orders, Leon nearly ripped the lace way from her skin and Claire turned around, dropping her hair down so that it curved around her shoulders. With a small sigh, Claire surrendered her mouth once again to Leon's, silently reveling in the obvious agony she was putting him in as she stubbornly refused to spread her legs to his wandering hands.   
'Disgusting.'   
Claire's stomach tightened as she struggled to keep her eyes closed. She willed herself to stop hearing him. She hugged Leon hard and concentrated every fiber of her being on him.  
'He isn't there!' she thought desperately. 'He isn't there...'  
"Oh, Claire." Leon moaned as she reached into his boxers and stroked him with expert attention.  
'What the hell do you think you're doing?' Steve asked coarsely. Even though her eyes were shut tight, she could practically SEE him frowning at her.  
'No, no, no!' She thought, herself. She fought against his image and concentrated on happier moments. Riding with Leon on his motorcycle, dancing in the club, taking pictures, visiting with Chris...   
'You CAN'T get rid of me, do you hear me?' Steve's voice raked against her back, but she could hear him fading away--slowly, but he was.  
'Just fight him.' Claire thought fiercely. 'What ever you do, don't let him win.'  
"Leon," she gasped breathlessly. "Take me now."  
Too weak from desire, Leon didn't argue, he pulled his boxers down and then Claire's panties. When he pressed himself against her, Claire waited to hear Steve's voice, his bitter tirades--anything. But she heard nothing.   
She opened her eyes, Leon was the only one there. A smile suddenly broke over her face.  
"Oh, God, I CAN love you!" she blurted out without thinking.  
Leon seemed surprised and he stopped what he was doing to look at her strangely. "Uh, I guess...you can..."  
Claire grabbed him and kissed him repeatedly until he could hardly breathe.  
When her enthusiasm died down, Leon grinned.   
"May I continue?"  
Claire smiled and pulled him back on top of her.  
"Just to let you know, I love you." she told him.  
"I noticed." he said. "But I love you, too."  
In the next few minutes a stream of 'yes's poured from Claire's mouth as Leon kissed and nipped at her skin, caressing her curves and driving her insane with lust.   
"Leon!" she cried, yanking him back up, unable to take it anymore. "Take me, take me now."  
In response, Leon just grinned, fully intending to hold out longer, but Claire wasn't going to have it.   
"I'm not joking, Leon." she spat, sounding forceful but feeling desperate. "If you don't take me now I'm just going to die!"  
Leon just chuckled at her vehemence and stroked her hair tenderly as he moved between her and pressed against her entrance. Claire cried out as she felt his throbbing manhood against her inner thigh and she hooked her arms under his own, gripping his shoulders with her hands. A groan of either pleasure or pain escaped Leon then and he slipped inside her with tender, but excruciating slowness. Claire's head fell back against her pillows and she gasped every time Leon slid deeper.   
Her hands went to the nape of Leon's neck, which was taut with corded muscle from all the restraint.  
"Ugh." he groaned, taking a deep breath. "God, you're a so tight."  
Claire sobbed in prostration as she struggled to stretch in order to accommodate his size. "Well...you're a little...bigger than I'm used to..."  
Leon snapped his head up so quickly that he could have broken his neck. "Are you serious?"  
Claire shrugged. Was it absolutely necessary to confess this right now? At this moment?   
"Yes." she replied.  
Then Leon did the last thing she expected him to do. He laughed. Really roared. So much that he was shaking.   
"What's so funny?" she demanded.  
"Nothing." he replied breathlessly.   
His laughter was contagious and she burst into giggles just as he was subsiding from his. In mock frustration Leon dropped his head to her chest. "What's wrong with YOU, now?"  
Claire shook her head vigorously. "Nothing."  
It took awhile, but eventually she calmed down and found it easier to fit him inside her and soon they were fixed on their lovemaking. The room was silent except for the sound of the rain outside and their heavy, ragged breathing and the occasional creak of the bed beneath them.  
"Oh, Claire...oh Claire..." Leon whispered into her ear in between strokes.  
Claire murmured back some other incoherent reply but but couldn't think to save her life. Her right hand was clasped in Leon's, his fingers all but crushing hers as their pleasure mounted. Claire's eyes snapped shut and her legs tightened around Leon's waist that it was impossible that she couldn't be hurting him.   
"I'm coming." she told him.  
As if that were his cue, Leon sped up his tempo and Claire's moans grew louder and more frequent before she let out a loud scream. She felt herself orgasm and Leon pumped even faster before coming a minute later. Claire finally felt her body collapse with exhaustion and Leon's did the same. He rolled off of her and laid beside her on the bed while she snuggled next to him. The world became still and quiet then, even the rain outside seemed to come to a halt.   
She must have drifted into a light sleep because she awoke about thirty minutes later. Leon was sitting up, facing away from her, fiddling with something in his hands.   
"Hey, Big Guy." she said, giggling and slipping her arms around him. "You could have just woken me up."  
Leon jerked around and looked surprised, but then he smiled softly. "Nah, you looked too tired."  
Claire rolled her eyes. "What are you doing?"  
Leon hesitated before laying down beside her and holding up a large gold ring with an emerald and cross on it. Claire frowned and started to say something but Leon stopped her. "It's an heirloom. An Irish Celtic Ring." he explained. "My father gave it to me, it's been passed down through nearly ten generations." He twisted it between his thumb and forefinger. "I...well, I was wondering...will you wear it?"  
Claire opened her mouth to reply but no words came out. Then she shook her head. "No, no. I can't. You already gave me too much jewelry--I can't."  
Leon's brows dipped into a puzzled frown. "Claire, please? I want you to wear it...it's a sign of my..." He paused and took a deep breath. "I want you to wear it forever. Because that's how long I'll love you. No matter what." He took her hand and kissed it. "It would be an honor if you would wear it."  
Claire looked down and laughed softly through filmy eyes. "I don't think it will fit."  
Leon looked down also and switched the ring to her thumb. Then he looked back up at her and puckered his lips. Claire tried to refuse but Leon insisted.  
"It's an heirloom. It should stay in the family." she declared as he slipped it onto her thumb.   
"So? Maybe...maybe someday...WE'LL be family." he said, his voice breaking.  
Claire blushed a deep red. "You mean... you have a brother?"  
Leon laughed and shook his head. "No. I'm the only boy in a long line of girls."  
"Shoot." Claire said, disappointed. 


	18. Show Down

Chapter Eighteen:  
  
  
  
Leon supressed a loud yawp as Claire made a sharp turn and sped up even faster. How could he have gotten himself into this mess? Him and his big soft heart. The evening had started out so innocently; he had arrived at the Kute Kids studio to pick up Claire for dinner at a little Vietnamese restaurant a couple of blocks away from her work.   
All through the meal of crispy fried noodles and wanton soup, Claire had been gazing longingly at the shiny Harley parked outside, the gleam from the street lights reflecting in the polished chrome. With a bonny smile, Leon took her hands in his, turning her attention back to himself.  
"You know what?" he asked, intwining her fingers with his.  
"What?" she replied sweetly, her long dark lashes brushing the skin beneath her eyes.  
Leon looked down and thumbed the baroquish Celtic ring on Claire's finger. "Sometimes..." he took a breath and sighed dramatically. "...sometimes I feel as if you're using me for the bike."  
Claire gasped in abhorrence. "No! That's not true...the sex alone is worth it."  
"Oh, I feel so used!" Leon exclaimed and then tightened his hold on her hand.   
After that, Claire made an effort to pry her eyes from the bike but Leon could tell that it was still on her mind. After he paid the check, he walked out into the cold night and found Claire waiting in her usual seat just behind his spot. Sauntering over with purpose he stood, bearing his weight on one leg and crossing his arms.   
"Scoot up." he told her.  
"Come again?" she replied, lifting an eyebrow.  
"Scoot up." He repeated. "You're driving home tonight."  
An unbelieving look took hold of Claire's features and she laughed. "Yeah, right. Just get on."  
"I'm serious." Leon said, hiding a smile at her look of consternation. "You want to take control of the reins for awhile--and I want you to be happy."  
Claire's mouth hung open for a moment before she let out a wild laugh. "You are insane."  
"I know." he said as he slipped behind her. "I'm actually a few steps ahead of that. But insane is adequate for now."  
Claire started up the engine and then revved it a little too excitedly. "You just wait." she told him as she prepared to take off. "When we get home tonight you are going to have the greatest sex of your life."  
Before Leon could laugh or become aroused, she sped off onto the highway.  
  
  
  
Wind whipped through Claire's hair as she went faster and faster. All the sounds around her blended into one dull, loud roar perfumed with the faint scent of baked pretzels, magnolias and exhaust. It wasn't exactly pleasant but it was the most exhiliarating experience she ever had. Unless you counted the last few nights with Leon...   
Claire dared to look at Leon in one of the mirrors. He didn't look scared out of his mind but he didn't look calm either. He looked a lot like a little kid who had finally been allowed to go on a rollercoaster for the first time. Terror and ecstasy mixed into one.   
The ride took her higher and higher until she just about flew off the seat but the exuberance worn down as she pulled into the stretch of road leading into Chris's home. The drone of the Harley's engine dropped and then finally died as she pulled into the garage and turned it off. Adrenaline was still rushing through her veins, the traffic's strong pulse was still pounding in her ears and her heart was racing from both happiness and gratitude.  
Twisting around in her seat, she threw her arms around Leon and kissed him.  
"That was wonderful!" she exclaimed.  
"I'm glad you liked it." Leon replied, swallowing hard.  
Claire turned back to the front and ran her hands along the rough handle bars and rested her touch on the bronze eagle perched just above the headlights.   
Taking a breath, she wondered what it would be like if they were to spend the next spring break down at Daytona Beach for bike week. It would be a while, certainly, but idea became more and more appealing. The last time she had went there, Steve had complained about the lack of sleep he got, how noisy it was to have so many motorcycles around, and how absurd the festivities were. He hadn't used that exact language (it had been much more profane) but it had been enough of a hassle that it had made Claire not want to come back.  
Just as she was imagining herself sunbathing with Leon covering her feet in the sand and playfully splashing her with water, she felt his hands clamp over her waist.  
"When do you think I can take you up on that earlier proposition?" Leon asked with genteel politeness but Claire knew that tone better.  
"Right now." She whispered, pressing her back into Leon's chest and tilting her head so he could kiss her neck.  
  
  
She awoke many hours later, when it was pitch black outside and the wind and rain made a symphony with the thunder and rustling leaves. Clearing her hoarse throat, Claire sat up and rubbed her eyes. She was sitting in her bed, bathed in the faint blue moonlight from outside. Stretching her back out, she stood and headed for the door, thinking that Leon had put her in bed and then went to get a drink of water. Either that or he had fallen asleep watching reruns of his favorite old shows.  
Reaching for the doorknob, she made ready to turn but her hand was then slapped away. A shriek escaped her mostly out of shock but then a second scream tangled in her vocal cords and she was forced to make choked, gagging noises. Emerging from the dark shadows, Steve appeared, draped in black; a black trench coat, black pants, black gloves, black boots. No wonder she hadn't noticed him hiding.  
"Hey, baby." he greeted, smiling biliously. The stench of alcohol clung heavily to him like glue but twice as acrid.   
Claire swallowed once, twice, but to no avail. She couldn't seemed to speak. All she was capable of feeling was fear and the rising hysteria from within her.   
"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" Steve asked, placing his hand on her cheek.  
Claire swiped angrily at his hand and backed away, covering her nakedness with her arms.  
"S...Steve. What are you doing here?" she demanded, fighting back the sobs that were trying to force their way out. Well, they were just going to have to take a number and stand in line. Behind Fear and Hysteria and good ol' Nervous Breakdown.  
"Don't you miss me?" He asked, taking her back into his arms and for the life of her, Claire couldn't pull away.  
"You shouldn't be here." Claire spat. "Get out."  
Steve tutted under his breath and shook his head. "Is that any way to talk to your flame?"  
"I mean it, Steve. If you don't get out of here right now--"  
"What? What are you going to do, huh? You gonna drag that G.I in here and tell him what a bad boy Stevie's been?" As he spoke, he grabbed at Claire's skin and pinched hard enough to bruise.  
"All I have to do is scream." Claire said as Steve held her by the nape of her neck.  
A virulent smile played on Steve's lips. "I don't think you'd want to do that." he said, reaching into his trench coat and pulling out a revolver. Noticing the fearful look in Claire's eyes, he held it up, "I just got it today." he bragged. "You like it?"  
Claire frowned. "You can kill me if you want, but don't expect me to go anywhere with you. I won't come back."  
At that, Steve laughed; a high, terrible laugh that made Claire's blood run cold. "You're so cute when you're determined. But I'm not going to kill you. I would never kill you." He paused for a moment. "But the man out there, your new lover, I have no feelings for him--I could easily just shoot him. Then you would have no choice but to come with me."  
Claire's blood became ice then. Leon?  
"You wouldn't." she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes.  
"Oh, I would." he said, cocking the gun and holding it up. "It's up to you Claire, you come with me and nobody gets hurt. Or you can refuse and stay, I shoot Leon, and you are blamed for the whole thing. I know people, Claire, I can make it happen." Lust and desire filled Steve's eyes and he rested his head on her breasts. "You know what they do to beautiful girls like you in the woman's penitentiary? They make them the definitive woman...and they do it in the WORST ways..."  
Steve caught hold of Claire and threw her down onto the bed. Before Claire could kick herself back up, he pinned her down, and slapped a pair of handcuffs onto her wrist and to the bedpost. A whimper escaped her as she kicked furiously at him.  
"S-STOP IT!" Steve shouted so loud the walls shook. "Do you want it all to end here? Right now? Because so help me Claire, I will go out there, shoot that stupid son of a bitch and then come back in here to finish the job!"  
"Steve, just shut up!" Claire exclaimed, the tears now rolling down her eyes. "Don't touch him! Please!"  
Steve nodded knowingly. "It's really cute that you love him that much." He bent down and kissed her. The taste of beer entered Claire's mouth and she could barely hold back the disgusted gagging. Her legs closed tightly, but Steve pushed through, pulling down his pants at the same time.  
Claire closed her eyes, awaiting penetration but then instead, she heard a loud bang from the side. The door flew off it's hinges as she opened her eyes and a figure as blurry as a football player at the Superbowl dashed in. Steve was wrenched off of her and there was a heavy thud as two bodies hit the carpet. Pulling herself up, Claire saw Leon wrestling with Steve, trying to get the revolver out of his hand.  
Looking to her right, Claire saw the small shiny handcuff key, just out of reach on the bedside table. Arching her back to stretch her arm out, she grasped empty air again and again until her hand reached the hard mahogany wood, her nails just brushing against the key. A painful cry came from Leon and Claire lost her concentration just momentarily to see that Steve had slammed his head into the ground and then scrambled for the gun at the base of the double French doors leading to the lanai. Just when it seemed to Claire he would get the gun, Leon locked his ankles together, making Steve fall face-first into the ground himself.   
Reaching and struggling against her bonds, she finally caught hold of the keys and sat up, trying to shove the key into the hole. Now Leon and Steve both had their hands on the gun, they wrestled with all their might, trying desperately to make the bullet end face away from them. Claire jammed the key in and turned it, she awaited the sound of the cuffs being unlocked but instead heard the sound of a gun being fired close by. Very close by.  
Down on the ground, Leon and Steve both stared at each other, motionless. Each was a dreadful white, as they waited to see who the bullet had hit. Then came the answer. Steve drew back in horror as Leon's head fell to the floor and his blood stained the peach colored carpet a deep sanguine. 


	19. Bring on the Rain

Chapter Nineteen:  
  
  
  
Claire's heart stopped beating and fell dead silent as she stared at the blood staining the carpet. She pulled herself free of the handcuffs and leapt off the bed, falling to Leon's side. His blood smeared all over her legs and arms but she didn't care, pulling his head into her lap, she caressed his face.  
"Leon, Leon, oh, God..." she muttered over and over again.  
Even though she could hardly see straight, it didn't take a genius to see that he was barely holding on.  
"Just hang on, okay? We're going to get help." she whispered to him softly. After the initial shock wore off, her gaze darted to Steve. He was hanging back against the wall, pale-faced and shaking.  
"WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE!?" Claire screamed in a voice not her own.  
"I--I..." Steve trailed off. He swallowed hard, "Is he...hurt?"  
"What the HELL do you think?!" She bellowed so loud her vocal cords nearly burst. "Did you think that it wouldn't hurt a person to be SHOT?! You were on Rockford, you know what guns could do--and those killed things that were already as good as DEAD!"  
Her outrage carried over all the chaos outside, for a few house lights turned on across the street. Claire didn't give a damn. Let those noisy shits wake up, let them call the cops, let them take Steve away and lock him up forever. In her fury, she temporarily forgot about Leon, which was, in itself, a very dangerous thing to do. The bullet could have punctured a major artery.  
"I didn't...I didn't mean to...?" Steve stammered.  
At that, Claire jumped up, crossed the room and delivered one GodAlmighty blow to Steve's jawline. She had never hit like that before. Steve actually fell to his knees and then clutched at his face, crying out like a child.  
"Like hell you didn't!" Claire screamed.  
"Well, YOU shouldn't have disagreed with me!" Steve shouted back, jumping up and grabbing her shoulders. With one last look at Leon's pallid features, he shook her hard. "Come with me. You can't stay here anymore--you'll be thrown into prison They'll blame you. Will you be able to live with yourself if that happens?"  
Claire kicked Steve's balls (at this point in time we can scarcely call them the tamer 'groin') as hard as she could and then karate chopped his midback. "Wipe your conscience." she spat at him.  
Walking back to Leon, she picked up the revolver at his side. "I'm giving you to the count of ten."  
"What?" Steve wheezed, still keeling over.  
"Ten, nine, eight..." she began, ignoring him.  
"You dumb bitch, you're going to stay here with that dead man--"  
"Seven, six, five, four..." she cocked the gun and aimed it at Steve.  
Cowardice suddenly flooded Steve and he leapt up and smashed through the French doors.  
"Three, two, one..." Claire stood up and aimed outside as Steve jumped the railing of the lanai. Taking aim, she fired. She was rusty, and it showed, but she didn't go through life with Chris Redfield as a brother for nothing. The master marksmanship had rubbed off. She didn't hit anything vital, but she hit something, because he cried out and fell to the ground, flat on his face. She shot again, a clear shot of his arm before he ran off, limping all the way.  
Police sirens wailed in the distance as Claire picked up the phone, dialing 911. Looking down at Leon, she finally allowed the tears to fall.   
"Leon..." she breathed. "I'm so sorry..."  
Leon groaned and sputtered pitifully. "Don't be..." he tried to move, then cried out in agony. "Jesus Christ!"  
"Don't move!" she begged him, grabbing a blanket and covering him up. "Just rest, relax! Please!"  
  
  
Tears formed in Leon's eyes as the pain seared through his body. Ripping his insides and hammering at his brain. Looking down at his midsection, he laughed absently.  
"God, is that all my blood?" he asked. He had meant for it to be a silent thought, but it had come out instead. Claire looked down at him and kissed his forehead. She spoked some hurried words into the phone (probably to a 911 dispatcher) then held him close to her breasts.   
"Get into... a robe for God's sake, you'll freeze to...death." How ironic. Leon groaned, trying anything, saying anything to stay awake. He didn't care how ridiculous he sounded, right now, staying away was the important thing. But God, wouldn't it be great to close his eyes? The pain would stop, certainly, and he wouldn't be feeling so damn light-headed.  
Foolishly, his eyelids fluttered down briefly when Claire shook him violently.   
"Fuck you, Leon, don't you DARE close your eyes!" She sobbed angrily.   
A ribbon of pain shot through him, penetrating his wound and he cried out again. "It hurts..."  
"I wish I had killed him..." she whispered. "I let you down."  
"Not...really...you shot at him--he got hurt...I could tell..." Leon said, his voice weakening.  
"Shh..." Claire whispered. "Don't talk. Please, just...don't talk..."  
Leon closed his mouth and swallowed hard. The door was suddenly pushed aside and the room spun.   
"Claire! Shit, what in hell happened?" A male voice, someone familiar...WHO was it though?  
"Oh my! Claire, what in heaven's name happened?" Now a female voice, also familiar...WHO was it this time?  
At that, Claire began to sob.  
"Leon! We have to get Leon to the hospital, I don't know how long he'll be able to last!"  
Just at that moment, a loud siren cried out and red, white and blue lights flashed through the darkness. A few seconds later, two men came in, carrying a stretcher and he was lifted up just as two or three police officers entered the scene.   
"Cl...Clay..air.." he murmured drowsily as unconsiousness began to take hold of him.  
"He's getting delusional..." one man said as they loaded him into the ambulance.  
"LEON!" he heard her cry through the rain.  
"Cay-lair!" he shouted, trying to fight against them but was held back.  
  
  
Claire paced the ER floor anxiously. Looking hastily at the clock, she realized that it was only one minute later than when she last checked. The time was dragging on and on. Tears filled her eyes and then spilled over. Her life couldn't have gotten any worse. She had been interrogated for nearly two hours; the same old boring questions, 'who, what, where, when, how, why?'. When she had explained why Steve would have been so irate, the officers shared a knowing glance. She knew what they were thinking. No wonder she's in this mess, the slutty ones are always the trouble-makers.   
Biting her lip in anger, she remembered how it was only when Chris arrived that they wound up with a simple, 'We'll do our best to catch him, ma'am' and then walked out. That was when she headed for the emergency room and was told she had to wait outside. They didn't even answer her when she asked how he was holding up.  
"Claire," a hand touched her shoulder and she jumped away.  
Chris was standing behind her. "You should get some rest." he told her.  
Claire shook her head vigorously. "No, not until I see how Leon is..."  
"If I had known that Steve was that demented I would've come back sooner--"  
"Please, let's not talk about it..." she begged.  
"Then, WHEN Claire?" he demanded. "Every time I want to talk about your problems with Steve, you always say, 'let's not talk about it'. Well, if not now, then WHEN. Maybe if you had told me about this before, you wouldn't be in this mess."  
His words hadn't meant to come out harsh, but they had. Claire whirled around and frowned deeply.  
"Don't you DARE turn this around on me. It's always my fault, isn't it?"  
"I didn't mean that--" Chris began.  
"No, fine. It is. It's always my fault! Fine." she turned to the window and watched the rain zigzag down. "It's always my fault... It IS always my fault..." Fresh tears formed in her eyes and she sank down to her knees. "It IS! It IS!"  
Choked sobs flew out of her throat and she doubled over, crying harder than she'd ever cried before. "Chris, it IS always my fault. If I hadn't dragged Leon into this, he wouldn't be here. He'd be safe, unharmed..."  
"Claire," Chris sat down Indian-style next to her. "It isn't your fault."  
"Then whose fault is it?" she asked shakily.   
Chris shook his head. Pulling her into his arms, he embraced her hard. "I don't think...No one ever means for this to happen..." he said. "Bad luck, you know..."  
Claire didn't know, but she nodded anyway. Chris was trying to help, but in his usual, big-brother ways, he stumbled on explanations of why there were monsters under beds and why people deliberately set out to hurt others.  
"I love you, Chris." she said softly.  
Chris froze, like he usually did during an unexpected show of affection, but he relaxed and kissed her forehead. "I love you, too, Rainbow..."  
The sound of that old nickname bestowed by her dad made Claire look up at her brother. Rainbow...the promise that after even years and years of darkness and bad weather, the sun would always come out...and there would always be a rainbow. The memory comforted her and she nodded gently. The sound of footsteps coming from opposite directions jolted her from her bubble of safety and comfort.  
Rebecca and a doctor came from opposite sides of the corridor.  
"Good news, he's in stable condition." he said to Claire, just as Rebecca spoke in a shaky voice, "They found Steve's body in a ravine just off the highway..." 


	20. Concrete Angel

Chapter Twenty:  
  
  
  
Claire blew her nose into the lightly scent handkerchief and breathed deeply. Fall was fading away quickly. Soon all the crisp, golden leaves would be gone from the trees and barren snow would cover the ground. A depressing season to follow after an equally depressing funeral. Despite the overall mood of the funeral that had taken place an hour earlier, Claire couldn't find it in her shed a single tear. For the past few days, she had planned Steve's departure as Leon lay in a cold hospital bed, slipping in and out of consciousness due to his extreme blood loss.  
Even though the wind was cold, the sun shone cheerfully, a real irony, especially after the unexpected rain spell that had occurred in the past week. In Claire's hand was a small note that she had folded over six times so that it fit neatly in her palm. She had waited impatiently as she kissed her old acquaintances good-bye (she could hardly call them friends anymore since she hadn't seen them in years). To her, they were just people who happened to find out that Steve had passed away and wanted to cause dramatics. Although one old girlfriend of hers genuinely seemed ready to die herself as they put Steve into the ground. Claire didn't want to know why the girl's horrible sobs echoed so loud in the cemetery for a man she hadn't even been close to…she knew the answer wouldn't be good.  
Now the cemetery was empty; completely devoid of any life or sound except for the occasional hum of an eerie hymn being carried in the breeze—just her imagination, she chided herself as she made her way to the burial plot were Steve was resting.  
Unfolding the paper, she cleared her throat. Written on blurry pencil hand was her personal eulogy for the late Steve Burnside. The one that held her true feelings about her ex-lover and not a few pretty words thrown together to sound appropriate to a priest or guests.   
Clearing her throat, Claire took a deep breath and read:  
  
'Dear Steve, I never imagined that this would happen. Not us getting separated, but you dying first and me being left behind. I always thought that it would be the other way around. I either killed myself or you relieving me of that duty.' Claire released a shaky sigh and swallowed hard. 'Not that I never wished that you died. There were many nights when I would sit up alone and wonder where you were and what you were doing—and I knew just exactly WHAT you were doing. I HATED you so much I wished you would drink yourself to death or would get into a fight so bad that they would just drop you off the edge of a cliff…I always felt bad after I thought it, but you somehow managed to always, always make my thoughts turn to that.'   
  
At that point, Claire stopped reading. The words that came out of her mouth were so calm, so docile. Her heart pounded erratically, knowing that what she read wasn't exactly what she was feeling. Her eyes scanned the head stone. Written on the polished rock was the name Steve Burnside in bold print, underneath was his birth and death date, etc. The last inscription was …he will always be in our hearts…   
She certainly hadn't chosen the headstone, not on purpose at least. She had pointed listlessly at one that looked the least frivolous and then left in a hurry. Now she was paying for it. Not in my heart, she thought bitterly. I don't want him inside me anymore!   
Another voice intervened before Claire could rip her hair out in aggravation, then let him out…  
The whisper was vague and soft, but it echoed in Claire's ears like a rock song you couldn't get out of your head. Let him out, let him go, let YOURSELF live…   
Feeling a surge of fresh anger build inside her, Claire let out a loud shriek that could have knocked a few of these moldy oldies out of their graves and force them to listen too.   
"Oh God, Steve, I HATE YOU!" she cried tearfully, but with so much projection a flock of birds flew from the safe haven of a nearby redwood. "I hate you for being so selfish and for being such a fucking bastard!  
"I hate you for going with other women, for drinking, for beating the crap out of me!"   
On the last word of that sentence, her voice rose so high that she nearly busted a blood vessel in her throat. Even though her throat was fine, something obviously broke because soon tears were streaming down her cheeks; fresh, hot tears that burned her eyes and seared her skin as they traversed down to her chin.   
She choked on sob after sob and until the next words were a warbled, incoherent babble.  
"Was it…something…sniff…that I…did…Steve?" she asked. "Was it…really…my fault…all…all along?" Her sniffles subsided as an unsullied upsurge of ire inflamed her. "Did I DO something to drive to drinking?!" she demanded. "What did I DO?! GODDAMNIT, just ONCE TELL WHAT I DID WRONG! DAMN IT, STEVE, TALK TO ME!"  
The dullard-like silence that followed only seemed to infuriate her even more.   
"It WAS my fault, wasn't it?" Claire ranted, stamping her foot in agitation. "Well, I'm sorry for making your life so damn miserable! I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry for being so boring that you needed alcohol to give you excitement. I'm sorry that I couldn't be everything to you. Do you hear me, Steve?" The last remark was directed in no particular direction, heaven bound, hell bound, you decide. "I'm SORRY!!!"   
One last heavyhearted sob and her voice died out completely. No sound came from her mouth no matter how hard she tried. Without realizing it, she had fallen to her knees and was now sitting like a lost little girl at the mall.   
Hugging the trunk of her body, Claire leaned over, shivering from either relief or the cold numbness that she was succumbing to. Her eyes closed tightly and she allowed her whimpers to cease completely. Gazing up, she saw from the first time the little statue at the base of Steve's headstone. Blinking her eyes roughly, she swallowed deep and examined it closely.   
The little cherub was kneeling in prayer; the face upturned heavenwards, a look of hope in the inanimate eyes. A concrete angel, she thought ruefully. That's what Steve had been…if not in the end, then at least in the beginning. An angel…but one that had been thrust into the real world too quickly and the mind was suddenly poisoned by the cruel and hardhearted methods.   
As hard as it had been for her, she suddenly realized that it couldn't have been any easier on Steve. He had been young, younger than she, when he lost his family, and being a boy, he was much more immature than his age. The things he had seen, Umbrella's evil ways, was too much for a…child like him…some of it must have affected him in even the smallest ways. Eating away at him, like a parasite until it just got to be too much and he had to get it out in one way or another. But…why did he choose the hardest way of all?  
Claire wiped her eyes, the reality of it all hitting her hard. Understanding flooded through her and she could suddenly see exactly what had happened. But with this newfound clarity, grief followed. If only, if only, if only… she thought softly. She could have helped him if she had been less blind before.   
But what could have opened her eyes. Gazing again, on the concrete angel, she realized that Steve couldn't have stayed any longer. A fish couldn't stay out of water for long because of it's gills…Steve couldn't stay in this world that he had suddenly come to hate…maybe, just maybe, he was in better place now. Maybe not heaven right away, but…did he really deserve hell?  
Yes, definitely. One part of her declared passionately. But the other part of her whispered, Wait, in time, you will be able to decide. Forgiveness might not come for a very long time, but maybe one day. For now, just say good-bye.  
Standing up, she cleared her throat. No good, her voice was still gone. Instead, she mouthed the final words, 'Good-bye, Steve.' She backed away, her eyes never wavering from the angel on the grave. 'Good-bye.'  
  
  
  
  
Beeps…beep…beep… The little machine against the wall beeped steadily, arousing Leon from a deep, deep sleep. A coma was more like it. It was so heavy, so dark, and so dreamless. His eyes opened to a bright, white room devoid of any beauty except the girl lying on the worn, leather armchair to his right. His arm felt like crap, his stomach felt like shit…his whole body was a wreck. When he looked down, he saw why.  
Needles and wires were poked all along his forearms and his torso was in bandages that were stained a light pinkish color. Groaning in an effort to sit up straight, he looked again to Claire who was sleeping deeply on the less-than-comfortable looking hospital chair.   
Smiling despite his pain, he looked down at her with a stunned awe. He hadn't seen her for a while. For the past few days, he had been asleep, sometimes waking long enough to get an idea of where he was, but then falling back into unconsciousness. To his dismay, Claire had never been there when he was awake, and he would have been less than human if he said that that didn't bother him at least a little.  
Leon wanted to reach over and stroke her hair, caress her chin, wake her up…but something in the deepness of her slumber made him stop. She looked so…happy, so at peace with everything and everyone. The serenity of her sleep made him feel guilty for even fathoming the idea to wake her.   
Instead, he just sat and watched her body rise and fall with the steady rhythm of her breathing. She had her legs drawn up to her chest and her hands were cradling her chin like a makeshift pillow. Her face, although clear and still seemed different. She looked like a person who had just gotten rid of a heavy burden but was now dealing with the aftermath. Dark circles shadowed her eyes and her face was tear-stained, shiny traces still evident where the salty excretion had traveled.  
On the table between them was a newspaper opened to the obituary section. Looking down, Leon saw a picture of Steve at the bottom. The reality suddenly hit him. Steve had died. He was gone from their lives forever. Poor Claire…she must have been suffering so much now. She had to have planned his funeral right down to the eulogy, all that stress must have been frustrating, and Leon hadn't been around to help her with it.   
Examining her visage carefully, Leon realized just how tired and worn she looked. His heart sunk as he saw her weary expression and thought about how it had been his fault she was like this. If he hadn't come back into her life, she wouldn't be in this mess, Steve would be alive and they would have worked out their problems. There would have been none of this bullshit with the police or any other type of obstacle that was in the way of her happiness.  
Shame filled Leon as he looked down at his hands. It was his fault that Claire was in this mess. It really was. He had been so selfish. He'd come to California and forced his way back into her life all for the sake of some lost dream of having some right to be in her world. To be her world.   
Tears filled his eyes as he realized how self-centered and idealistic he had been. He was only lucky that Claire had been strong enough to overcome and rise above all the bullshit around her. Looking into her face, a description quite accurate to what she really was came to him: concrete angel. She truly was a concrete angel. A creature so delicate but so strong and resilient that it could survive through anything. That could be hit again and again, both physically and mentally and still have the resolve to fight back.  
What right did Leon have to such a phenomenal woman like her? What did he expect from her anyway? He certainly didn't want to stay in California forever and it would be wrong to ask Claire to go anywhere with him. She had a job here; her only means of family was here…her life was here. Not with him in Chicago or in Ireland or where ever the hell he wanted to go.   
Leon's wallet was on the table beside the newspaper, the little Spitfire emblem grinning maliciously at him. Reaching for it, he opened to where he had his sister's address in Chicago. Looking from the address to Claire, he made up his mind to leave her forever. Maybe she might actually be something big without any ties at all… 


	21. The Thunder Rolls

Chapter Twenty-One:  
  
  
  
Claire smiled bonnily as she studied an Anne Geddes picture of a baby sitting in a water bucket with a yellow daisy head ornament perched on top of it's cranium. How the photographer got the babies to smile brightly each and every time was a mystery to her. For the spring issue of Kute Kids (which they were already working on despite the fact that winter was around the corner) the company had a new recruit of models. In the group were two babies, a boy and girl, twins actually.   
Once she got home, Claire had spent nearly an hour pouring over pictures of babies and what would be the best way to capture their fresh radiance. With older children it was easy, talk about videogames and Pokemon with the boys, Barbies and flowers witht he girls. With babies, it was different; they couldn't cooperate much and if they weren't people persons, watch out. Glancing up at the clock, Claire gasped. It was nearly six-thirty and Leon hadn't eaten yet. Jumping up from her seat, Claire headed for the kitchen to fix him his supper. Opening the cabinet, she scanned the rows of canned foods and picked out a can of chicken and stars soup. After setting it on the stove, she pulled some cold cuts, vegetables and condiments out from the fridge to make him a sandwich. Five minutes later, she had arranged the sandwich and soup on a tray with a glass of hot chocolate and a flower placed at the side for a pick-me-up message.  
Carrying the tray into her room, she set it down on the table beside the bed. Leon was sleeping deeply, his body wrapped tightly in a thick comforter stuffed to the gills with down feathers. Folding her arms in front of her, Claire smiled. For nearly a whole minute she was content to just watch his sleeping process before she slid beside him on the bed. Her head rested on his shoulder while her hand ran over his chest, stroking up and down until her hand was seized by his own.   
The movement was so sudden that she gasped out loud and was rewarded by a deep chuckle from beside her ear. Turning her head up, she saw Leon staring down at her, his eyes blurry from sleep.   
"Is it morning already?" Leon asked, stretching his arms.  
Claire sat up and shook her head. "No, it's almost seven o' clock. I made you something to eat."  
"Great. I'm starved." Leon replied, sitting up also and inspecting the tray. "Chicken and Stars! I love that soup! You didn't need to cook for me."  
"You're still recooperating." she said. "Besides, the doctor said for you not to do any strenuous labor for at least a week."  
Leon scoffed. "Making myself a sandwich is hardly strenuous labor--but I appreciate it from you."   
Claire smiled and reached over to get the remote from the foot of the bed. The day Leon was released from the hospital, she had moved the portable TV and VCR into her room so that Leon could watch some shows while she was gone.   
"Anything interesting on today?" she inquired as she flipped through the channel.  
Speaking through a mouth full of salami, Leon replied, "I slept most of the day, but Chris lent me some really cool morning shows on tape. Want to watch them?"  
Claire nodded and Leon started to get up.   
"Not so fast, there, Big Boy." she said, pushing him back down. "You just wait there and I'll get it for you."  
Getting the blank tape from off the VCR, she popped it into the machine and pressed the rewind button. The soft buzz of the tape as it ran on the wheels faster and faster held her captivated before she turned around abruptly and saw Leon studying her with an almost solemn expression.   
"What?" she asked as she pressed play, for the tape had stopped.   
Leon's head snapped up and he shook his head. "Nothing."  
Lifting an eyebrow, she crossed over to him and sat down. "All right."  
The tape was full of typical Chris shows. Mostly reruns of the sitcoms on USAM: Working, Wings, Ned and Stacey, etc... But to her surprise, at the end there was a recording of the movie, 'The Last of the Mohicans'. She and Leon watched until the bloodshed got too gruesome to bear and she turned it off.   
Flipping through the channels, she finally settled on a made-for-TV-movie on Lifetime.   
"Is this all right?" she asked.  
Leon nodded. "This is fine." he replied.  
They watched it for a little while but soon a bedroom scene arose and the two were locked in an embrace just as heated, if not more, than the one on screen. Skin pressed to skin, mouth pressed to mouth, breath rising and falling...  
Claire had pulled off her shirt when Leon broke away from her, resting his head on his knees.   
"Leon? What is it?" Claire asked breathlessly, sitting up and rubbing his shoulders. "Is something wrong?"  
Leon shook his head. "No. Nothing's wrong."  
Claire felt a little uneasy at his distance but she brushed it off and kissed him. "I'll be gentle if that's what you're worried about."  
Leon let out a laugh that seemed forced before he turned away. "Nah, I'm fine...I just...uh, I thinking I'm going to go take a...a shower...yeah..."   
Puzzled, Claire checked the clock. It was almost midnight. Why on earth would Leon want to take a shower now? Taking a deep breath, she watched as he disappeared into the bathroom and she fell back onto the bed. Looking down at herself, she felt more than a little embarrassed that she had been so forceful but why was she feeling so dirty all of a sudden? Putting her shirt back on, she told herself not to think too much about it, Leon was probably just tired and didn't want her to worry about it.  
Getting up, she took the tape out of the machine and put it back in it's case. Turning around, she noticed for the first time, a thick fold of paper underneath Leon's pillow...  
  
  
Hot water rolled down Leon's body but he hardly felt it. Thick, choking steam rose around him as he rinsed off the remainder of soaps suds and just stood with his forehead pressed against the heated tile. His heart was pounding with guilt and grief. What he wouldn't have given to have one last night with Claire, but he knew that it wouldn't be right. Not when he was planning on leaving her, planning to break all those promises he made to her all those nights when they laid panting and kissing on the floor after hours of fervent love-making. When he put it like that, he sounded like such an asshole. A lewd, pathetic weasel who loved then left without the slightest feeling of remorse.  
Punching the wall with his fist, he groaned out loud. He didn't want to be compared to those kind of men. He didn't even want to leave Claire. But she needed time away from him, to figure out what she wanted and how much she wanted from herself before she could have any more of her dreams crushed. Turning of the water, he dressed in a robe and got out of the bathroom. The room was deathly quiet when he entered it. It was a few degrees colder than when he left, too, or was that just his imagination.   
Claire was sitting on his bed, facing away from him, her head bent as if examining something.  
"Claire?" he spoke, causing her to spin around.  
"Oh, Leon..."  
Leon grinned and wiped his hair off with a towel. "Whatcha got there?"  
"Oh, this? Oh, um, just something that I found under your pillow." she said, holding up a map and a piece of paper with an address and phone number written on it. "Are you planning a trip?"  
Leon froze, feeling his heart sink to his feet and his stomach completely disappearing. "Uh, kind of."  
"Really?" Claire asked, a strange smile on her face. "Great. When do we leave?"  
The tone was unconvincing. As if she were trying to play innocent but knowing better.   
"Um...it's not really...US exactly..." Leon said, not able to look her in the eye.  
"Oh...I see..." Claire said, her tone dead on arrival. When she spoke next, her words were bitter. "Would you mind telling me who the hell Laina Edwards is?"  
At this, Leon looked up, at least this he could tell the truth about. "She's my sister in Chicago."  
"Oh, please." Claire replied, throwing the map down on the bed and starting out. "Your sister?"  
"Yes, my sister." Leon said. "She married a guy named Peter Edwards a while ago. I swear to you, Claire, she really is."  
Claire stared at him hard, as trying to detect perjury but was satified when she saw he was being truthful. "And...when, exactly, did you plan on telling me this?"  
"I--"  
"In a note that you left on the pillow before you took off?" Claire demanded, her gaze piercing his own.   
Leon choked a little on his reply, but he managed a short, abrupt sentence before Claire cut him off once again. "So, you were just planning to leave after all we've been through?" The hurt in her voice was painful. "Just pick up and go after you got all the screws you could get out of me?"  
"That's not true, Claire!" He declared.  
"Then what IS true, Leon?" She said, her voice surprisingly calm. "Why, after all that's happened, do you want to leave?"  
"I don't want to leave, Claire." He choked out. "I just...I just have to."  
Claire stared at him for a long time before shaking her head and turning around. "Why do you have to lie?"  
"Excuse me? What did you say?" Leon asked, crossing the length of the room in two strides and attaching himself to her side.  
"I said, 'why do you have to lie?'." She replied. "You wouldn't be leaving if you didn't want to."  
"I don't want to..." he insisted.   
Claire glared angrily at him and jerked away.  
"At least with Steve it was different. He never promised he wouldn't hurt me."  
Leon's nerves pinched at this comment. He knew it was out of blind pain that she was replying, but the thought of her comparing him and Steve was something he couldn't bear.  
"If you are trying to make me feel that I'm worse than Steve, don't, Claire. Just don't." Leon said in a warning voice. "I won't have it."  
Her mouth dropped open in mock surprise. "YOU won't have it?" she asked, then repeated, "YOU won't have it? Okay, fine. You won't have yourself compared to Steve. Great. But I won't have myself being compared to some whore off the streets."  
"I don't think of you that way! Damn it, Claire, I think the world of you!"  
"Well, you aren't showing it!" she exclaimed tearfully. "We slept together, Leon! I gave you something that I haven't been able to give to anyone, not even Steve, so completely. I trusted you with my heart and you just...oh God! a man wouldn't treat a slut like that..."  
Leon stammered as Claire whipped away furiously.  
"Claire, I...let me explain--listen to me."  
Claire looked at him venomously before shaking her head. "No. I think I've heard about all I need to." She wrenched herself away and opened the door, then in a completely ironical voice said, "Good bye, Leon. It's been fun."  
The door slammed hard just as a clap of thunder rolled outside. 


	22. Begin anew

Twenty-two:  
  
  
  
The floor boards of the lanai creaked loudly with each step Leon took. Jumping down the steps, he fastened his alforjas to the sides of his bike and patted it reassuringly. Outside, it was quiet, not a single breeze ruffled the leaves and all the families around the area must have gone away for the weekend because the sound of kids yelling in the street was non-existent. Pulling his key out he jingled it a couple of times then shoved it back in his pocket. Going around to the side of the house, he took one last look at the tall trees that surrounded the perimeter; somewhere beyond the grove was a railroad track with a train passing by just then. A freight train, probably, Leon thought. It coasted along quickly, barreling across mile after mile, not thinking about what it had left behind or what it would be missing. If only he could be the same...  
Shaking his head, he headed back into the house and scooped up his leather jacket and motorcycle gloves before heading out. Before he reached the door he caught the faint smell of wildflowers and he lifted the jacket to his nose. Claire's scent filled his nostrils and he was surprised that the smell would stick even after the last few weeks. Walking backwards, he glanced around the corner at Claire's closed bedroom door. The interior of that room was just as, if not more, still than the environment outside. It had been like that for the past week.   
Even after their brief but truculent argument Leon had tried to make amends; but Claire was an expert at many things and the cold shoulder was right at the top of the list. When he woke up in the morning, she was heading out the door to work. He'd try to catch her at night but she'd slam the door in his face before he could say two words. And the time that filled the space in between her coming and goings was useless because she passed him by as if he wasn't there at all.  
Leon couldn't have expected any less, he supposed. He was probably the biggest asshole alive to her now. The biggest surprise was that Claire hadn't killed him in his sleep. After staring at the door for nearly a minute, a wave of indignation swept over him. Did she actually think that he ever intended to hurt her? He was doing this for her, if he stayed, he was sure he would ruin her life...Claire could be SO much without him. If he held her back, she'd never reach her full potential... And she'd already put her life on hold for too long, it was time for her to pick up where she left off and be everything she wanted to be before it was too late.  
For one unbalanced moment, he felt like charging for the door and ripping it out of the frame and forcing Claire to listen. The jiff past, however, and he forced himself to walk out the door. Once outside, he realized it probably wouldn't have done any good for him to break down the door. Sitting outside on the railing was Claire. At the sound of the door opening and closing, she looked up and saw him leaving.   
Leon shuffled his feet, hesitant to move. Was she going to say something? Did she want him to start? What WOULD they have said, anyway? Sighing, he brushed his red hair out of his eyes, he headed down the steps.  
"Explain to me why," Claire said suddenly just before his boot hit the dirt. "I mean, EXACTLY why you are leaving." She twisted around so she was looking down on him. Her hair that she had left down that day fell over her eye and she suddenly looked like the mythical queen of some far, distant world.  
Leon cleared his throat and faced her squarely. "Well. You never exactly let me explain."  
"Okay, that's my fault." she conceded. "But you should at least tell me why you'd go after all we've been through."  
She hopped off the rail and stood before him, a good foot and a half shorter than he but with an expression so daunting he felt intimidated.   
All his reasons for going which had been so clear to him in the house just moments before suddenly seemed insignificant and he wished he could take back that he ever said them.  
"I don't want to leave you, Claire."  
"Then WHY?" she demanded.   
"Because...I just..." He stepped back and took a breath. If he faltered in anyway, Claire would pounce on his weakness until he himself believed that he could stay. Facing her again, he took her shoulders and spoke calmly, "Claire, you are an amazingly talented woman. You could do anything you set your mind to, and I am positive that if I hold you back, it'll only make things worse."  
Claire pushed his arms away. "Don't you think it's up to ME to decide what's bad for me?" she asked, her voice quivering.   
"I owe it to you to allow you to grow." Leon said. "You'll do much better without any ties."  
"Leon!" Claire pleaded, grabbing hold of his arm. "You don't OWE me anything, do you hear? Nothing at all. At the very least it's me who owes you. Jesus, Christ, I owe you my life five thousand times over for everything you've done!"  
"Claire, I--"   
Leon was caught off as Claire pulled him into a fierce hug. "Please, Leon, don't leave me." she begged him. "I don't think I could go on normally after you leave. We've been through too much."  
A lump formed in Leon's throat and he closed his eyes tightly, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill over. "Believe me; you'll be able to go on..."  
"Oh, GOD, why do you have to be so stubborn?!" Claire cried, at the end of her rope of patience.  
Leon shrugged. "You've rubbed off, I guess."  
Despite her frayed nerves, Claire had to let out a short-lived, humorless chuckle. She reached up to caress his cheek, the warmth of her touch something that Leon held on to for it would probably be the last time he ever felt it.  
"Of all the traits you could have taken, you chose the most frustrating of all..." Claire said.   
  
  
"Don't leave." Claire murmured once more before Leon left her embrace.   
"I can't stay." Leon replied, too tired to argue with her anymore.  
Claire bit her lip in anger before grabbing her finger and pulling at the ring on it. "Then fine. Here. Take this. I don't want it anymore."  
She dropped it in his hand before he could get a good hold on it and he fumbled.   
"But I gave it to you." Leon said.  
"And I'm giving it back so you can give it to the next tart you decide to fuck over."  
God, she was tired of arguing with this man. No matter how much she begged or pleaded, he was so SET on leaving. It just wasn't worth it. Turning abruptly on her heel, she headed for the house. When she opened the door, the engine of the Harley started up and she looked back. Leon's expression, just as frustrated as hers, was fixed on the road before him. He caught her eye one last time and Claire flipped her hair defiantly before slamming the door. The motorcycle revved before speeding off. Claire listened to it as it went faster and faster until the droning was completely gone.   
When the previous silence settled in, she filled it with her heart-broken sobs. Damn him, she thought bitterly. Damn him to hell! He wasn't any better than Steve had been after all. If he didn't want to get back into law enforcement, there was always room for him in the acting department. Jerking her head up, she grabbed a plate from the dish rack and threw it across the room. The sound made a surprisingly potent cure for her anger. Grabbing for another, she threw it to the other wall and was suddenly pitching plates left and right.   
With every shattering of ceramic, thoughts rose and diminished. All were of Leon and all weren't flattering to him in the least. She couldn't recall any of them on a bet, but they each ranged from him being a good-for-nothing womanizer to him crashing on the side of the road somewhere, a death not fitting to a sleazy bastard like himself. He had never cared about her; he just wanted someone to screw with until he got bored and moved on to conquest a girl in the next state. Her hand reached for the very last plate and she reared back, preparing to send it flying and add a new layer to the ceramic carpet when she saw all the damage she had done.   
The impact of the fallen objects and broken glass was shocking to her. Reason began to settle in and this time she dropped the plate because of trembling hands, not psychotic rage. Had she really done all this? Pulling the broom out of the closet she began to clean up. As she swept up the rubble, she came across a piece of blue plate ceramic. Picking it up, she saw it looked familiar. After pondering over it for a brief moment, she knew what it reminded her of. Leon's eyes. The calming effect it had on her was amazing and she was suddenly flooded with remorse.  
Leon, HER Leon wouldn't have done anything to hurt her. Not intentionally, anyway... How could a man who would read romance novels aloud to her, paint her toenails late in the night, or argue about whether she should get the window seat in a restaurant possibly be that heartless? This wasn't the time for any deep soul searching however. Claire didn't need any of it. Even if Leon thought that things would be better if they separated, he was just a man, he needed a woman to show him what was right. She grabbed the keys for Rebecca's car and hurried out. The next hour was spent driving around, trying desperately to find a silver Harley in the late afternoon traffic jam. After she realized it was futile, she was forced to return home, unsuccessful.   
Parking in the garage, she allowed her head to fall to the wheel. Tears fell down her face and she began to cry. As her tears rolled down her cheeks, rain from outside started to patter on the ground around her. Even though she was exhausted and distraught, she forced herself out. If she wasn't going to catch up with him tonight she would find his sister's house or an uncle's cabin or where ever the hell he decided to run. As stubborn as he had been, the trait didn't come naturally to him as it did Claire. He couldn't hold on to those romantic idealities that he was doing her good by leaving. Claire wouldn't allow him to leave her life again.  
Entering the house, she started for her room when she heard a loud curse from the kitchen.   
"I'm sorry, Chris." she said, peeking in. "I'll clean it u..."  
She trailed off when she saw that it wasn't Chris. Leon was squatting in the middle of the mess she had made, picking up the pieces off the ground. When he saw her, he stood to his full height and swayed nervously.   
"Leon?" she whispered tearfully.  
Leon looked off to the side. "I, uh, I came back because...I forgot something."  
Claire scoffed. "What did you forget?"  
Leon opened his mouth but then closed it again. "I don't know."  
"You don't know?"  
"No." He replied.  
Without saying anything, Claire took hold of the broom and started to sweep. They cleaned in silence until Leon stooped down to scoop up the broken glass she swept into the waiting dust pan. When he rose and met her at eye level, she stopped him suddenly.  
"You didn't--" she began.  
"I couldn't..." Leon interjected as if reading her mind.  
She took the dust pan and headed for the waste basket. After dumping it, she backed up into him for he had been following close behind her.  
"Why?" she asked, picking up the previous subject. She couldn't see him but she could tell by the way he pressed his head to hers that his eyes were closed.  
"Because...I..." He trailed off hopelessly. "I...was wrong."  
"About?" she turned to face him evenly.  
Leon looked down, massaging her fingers that he was crushing in a vice grip. "Everything." He said. Looking up, he repeated himself. "I was wrong about everything. I shouldn't have decided anything without telling you."  
Sympathy welled inside her when she saw his tortured eyes. "You couldn't help it. You thought--"  
"I thought wrong." he interrupted. "It took me about five miles before I realized that I was being a jackass. I drove around for the longest time, trying to think of some way to apologize--I wasn't sure if you'd forgive me. If I were you, I probably wouldn't have accepted anything." He looked around at the mess. "When I walked in here, I almost turned around."  
Claire laughed, still averse to believe that Leon was really there.   
"I almost made the biggest mistake of my life tonight, Claire." Leon said mournfully. "The reality of that is what scared me the most, I had to come back. I didn't want to lose you again."  
Claire shook her head. "You couldn't have lost me."   
Leon looked down at her. "Why is that?"  
"Because," she said, but was cut off when the front door opened.  
"Oh, I'm soaked to the bone!" Rebecca cried.  
"Here, let me--" Chris trailed off. "What happened in here?"  
Claire looked up at Leon and they suppressed a laugh. Chris hadn't entered the kitchen yet, so they crept out, silently opening the kitchen door and closing it as they stepped out onto the lanai. They crossed quickly to the French doors that opened into Claire's room and she locked it up once they were inside.   
"What's going to happen to us?" Claire asked suddenly, turning to face him.  
Leon took off his jacket and hung it on the side of the chair. "Well...um, ideally, we'd live happily ever after...but..."  
"But what?" she pressed, sitting down.  
Leon rubbed his temples before crossing to her and giving her a long, slow kiss. As his lips warmed her own, Claire realized that she didn't need an answer. For him to give her an answer would have been like him giving her a promise and she'd had enough of those to last a lifetime. For now, they would just have to live one day at a time until their lives settled again. Maybe then there would be an answer. Maybe then there would be a valid promise to be made. For now, she had him back and that was just as good as any fairy tale happily ever after. In fact, it was even better. 


End file.
